


Elyon

by Hecallsmehischild



Series: His Names [2]
Category: Christian Bible, Invader Zim
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-09 17:16:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 21,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7810492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hecallsmehischild/pseuds/Hecallsmehischild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Story 2 of the His Names series. In the wake of Zim's execution, a new belief is spreading like a weed. Red intends to uproot every last bit of it, but nightmares trouble his sleep, and a new ability leaves him questioning his sanity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dreaming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, I do not write sequels for the sake of writing sequels, I only write them if I have an idea, even if it's just a scrap of an idea, that that's all this is at this point, a scrap of an idea. But so was Ayam when I first started writing, and then I couldn't stop writing until the first five chapters were written. So, I begin this sequel to Ayam with the main character, and probably the first time I have ever portrayed this canon Invader Zim character as NOT being the absolute villain. Sideos, I keep in mind what you said about inclusion of the other side while I write this. My thanks for the thought.

_All is dark. All is silent. His mouth is open, screaming, but nothing is heard. His arms are flailing… or are they flailing? No motion is felt, no movement, no brush of skin against cloth, movement can't be discerned. There is not even a sense of self._

_Light… tiny light flickers… it burns. It's reaching out toward him. He raises an arm… something is weighted on his arm… cold metal wrapped around his body. He can't move._

Bolting upright, Red gasped in a deep breath. For a moment, darkness blinded him, but his ocular implants adjusted to the darkness and he slumped back against his pillows. His eyes swept over his imperial chambers. From the luxurious king-sized bed draped in Roxbuyt's fur to the wardrobe carved from Hogulus bones and the massive entertainment system set on a table made of crystallized jewelbugs, every square inch of the room spoke of power. Conquest. Domination.

So why was he shivering in the dark like a smeet that had heard a forbidden ghost tale? Flinging back the furs, he pushes himself up. He always felt lighter without the armor that bent him almost double, but it was protocol that he wear it every waking moment. Without it, he was told, he would have no protection from enemy fire or other targeted attacks.

Moving to the wardrobe, he opened it, languidly pushing aside one garment after another. Red. Red. Red. Red. Maroon. Red. Scarlet. Red. _Irk!_ How he hated the color. Couldn't the smeetery have been more unique with his name? Even the traitor Zim had at least had a decent name. Why did he have to be named after the color of his eyes?  
Zim. His eyes narrowed as he selected a tunic and donned it. Now _there_ was something he could do to calm his wits. Turning to the opposite wall, he crossed the room and pushed the intercom. "Drones, assemble my armor."

Within seconds, three drones trudged into his room, each bearing one of the three pieces of armor. Red stood straight as they extended spiderlegs from their PAKs to lift them to his level. They stumbled a little, staggering under the weight of the armor. He hissed scornfully at them, and they corrected themselves hastily, clamping on the metal. He felt his spine sag under the weight of the torso piece, and his shoulder sockets groan at the wristguards, but he clamped his mouth shut and nodded to the drones, who scampered off.

Reaching to his hoverbelt, he flipped it on and felt himself rise a few inches above the ground. When he was a smeet, he used to think the hoverbelt was stupid. Why hover when you could walk? But now he understood. How could you walk weighed down by almost 300 pounds of metal? Hovering was necessary for a Tallest to maintain their protection.

He opened his door and floated through, turning down the hall toward the new wing Purple had set up. The one designed to track down and incinerate that Irk forsaken piece of equipment Zim had set loose. He growled softly. What had started out as a joke on a sad, pathetic Irken had become a nightmare. That mad robot had covered a full quarter of the Irken empire in it's ridiculous game of "tag" that never ended, leaving a copy of the contents of its head in every location it stopped to refuel.

In every spot, loyal Irkens had reported changes in the behaviors of a few of their fellows. Those who actually took interest in the contents called themselves Krissirks, and started questioning the edicts of the Tallests, especially the ones that called for conquest and the extermination of other species. Worse than that were the reports that spoke of the changed attitude toward the Tallests.

According to secondhand information, the records given to these traitorous Irkens cast doubt on the Almighty Tallests' power and authority. They were not, it was implied, the highest authority, nor were they truly almighty as their title claimed. Treason, pure and simple. If their own army turned against them, then how could they hope to hold the planets they'd conquered? He had set Purple to work drafting up a declaration to combat this threat, and commissioned this new wing that tracked the robot's sporadic landings.

He floated into the room and glanced at the map. A new blue dot lit up the screen. His eyes narrowed. "I want three patrols sent to section 7-o-9, we've had a new report. This time, try luring it with snacks."

"Snacks, my Tallest?" A voice crackled through a speaker. "It's a robot, sir, they don't—"

"Are you questioning me?" Red snarled. "I built that robot and I've seen it on communications with Zim, that thing EATS. Now TRY IT."

"Yes, my Tallest."

He poked a claw at the glowing blue dot, pressing it hard against the screen. _When we find you, we will pull you apart and incinerate you._ He smirked. _Then where will your treasonous message be?_


	2. Beginnings

There was time to kill while the Irken outposts in sector 7-o-9 searched for the android. It had probably already deposited its information and flown off by now, it always had by the time the drones reached the area. Red turned and called up the declaration Purple had been working on to a nearby computer screen. It stated that the only authority which superceded the Tallest's was that of the Control Brains. Notions of any higher authority would be considered treason. Mentioning it positively or questioningly would be punishable by torture. Spreading the idea would be punishable by death—"WHOAH!"

Red jerked back. The screen began dripping green liquid over its surface. A sweet stench wafted toward Red, and he recoiled further. "Drones! I need a cleanup drone in here now!"

Instantly three janitorial drones flocked to the room. One stepped forward. "My Tallest, what are your orders?"

Pointing to the computer, he swallowed, "There. All that green liquid on the screen. It's obstructing my view of the document."

The drone hesitated. "My Tallest?"

"What are you waiting for?" Red shivered. The sickly sweet smell of blood increased every passing second. "Clean it off!"

Exchanging looks with each other, they hurried to the screen, pulling out sanitized towels to drag across the glass. He breathed easier as it cleared up.

"Will there be anything else, My Tallest?" The drone asked, forehead wrinkled.

"No, that will be all. Dismissed."

The drones hurried out, and he turned back to stare at the declaration. The screen gleamed back, clear and clean. Uneasy, he turned from the computer back to the map and frowned. The dot had disappeared as well… he peered at sector 7-o-9. Tapped the console a few times. Then picked up a communicator. "Have the squads reached the sector yet?"

The speaker crackled. "We're here, my Tallest. Reporting now. The android had only landed five minutes before we did. They must have been expecting it's arrival if someone called it in to you. We'll light up the sector on the map now." As he spoke, the blue dot reappeared.

Slowly, Red poked the dot. "Soldier, are you telling me this area wasn't lit up already?"

"No, My Tallest. Just now."

"There must be a mistake. Check with your teams. Ask them if anyone lit it up, even for a few minutes, then erased it."

"Yes My Tallest." The line murmured with static for a moment as the soldier conferred with the other teams. "No My Tallest. None of them tagged that sector."

Frowning, Red asked absently, "The droid landed five minutes before you, and then what?"

"It saw us coming and flew off. One of the patrols is trailing it now, but it's too fast."

"Keep on it," Red scratched his arm. "If it only landed for five minutes, it didn't have a chance to refuel. If we can keep it flying and unable to refuel, we might be able to catch it."

"Yes My Tallest."

"That will be all." He flicked off the communicator.

….

_It is the same as before. All is dark. All is silent. His mouth is open, screaming, but nothing is heard. His arms are flailing… or are they flailing? No motion is felt, no movement, no brush of skin against cloth, movement can't be discerned. There is not even a sense of self._

_Light… tiny light flickers… it burns. It's reaching out toward him. He raises an arm… something is weighted on his arm… cold metal wrapped around his body. He can't move._

_The light draws nearer. He looks down to see what holds him back. Dimly, he sees the reflection of the light on metal bands that encircle his waist, his wrists, his arms, his legs, his ankles… he can even feel one around his neck. Each band is connected to a length of ancient chain, three times as thick as his spindly arms…_


	3. Sanity

_The light draws nearer. He looks down to see what holds him back. Dimly, he sees the reflection of the light on metal bands that encircle his waist, his wrists, his arms, his legs, his ankles… he can even feel one around his neck. Each band is connected to a length of ancient chain, three times as thick as his spindly arms._

_And still the light comes. He shrinks back, ashamed. His royal clothes are in tatters, caked in filth and blood. His skin is raw, chafed, and oozing where the chains have cut into it._

He jerked awake, gasping. Sweat drenched his bedding. This was the third time he had dreamed in as many slumber cycles. Sleep was a luxury afforded to the Tallests because of their station, more of a pleasure than a necessity since their PAKs kept them fully functional at all times. But though Tallests occasionally enjoyed sleep cycles to rest their minds, dreams were uncommon, and nightmares even rarer.

Red slammed his claws onto the control panel next to the bed, summoning drones. "Prepare the medical bay," He growled, "I want the Doctor to meet me there in the next five minutes." Glancing at his armor, he sighed. "Make it fifteen."

…..

The medical assistant to the Tallests was not an uncommon or unusual Irken. Average height, drooping green eyes, and a white medical robe hastily pulled on. But none of this is what made Red leap out of his seat in terror as he entered the room. What ignited his fears was a black, hairy spider half the size of the doctor's head clinging to him, teeth sunk deep into his scalp.

The Doctor looked up at Red, startled. "Is something wrong, my Tallest?"

"Is something wrong?" Red yelled, "What is wrong with YOU? Why are you wearing that thing on your head?"

Chagrined, the Doctor pulled off a hat he had been wearing. "I apologize, my Tallest, if it bothers you so much. I will remove it."

"Not the hat you fool!" Red's voice rose in pitch. "Are you telling me you don't know what you have on your head?"

Fear kindled in the Doctor's eyes. To contradict a Tallest could mean certain death. Carefully he felt on top of his head. Red watched in astonishment as his hand passed right through the spider. The creature turned glowing eyes on Red, almost seeming to smirk at him. Suddenly Red realized there was no way he could tell this Doctor what he saw. Word would spread that he was defective, that he was unfit to rule. He could be removed from his post by the Control Brains if they found out he was seeing things.

Forcing a chuckle, Red eased himself into a relaxed position. "It was just a joke, Doctor. I made you check though."

Relief swept the Irken's face. "Indeed, my Tallest, very amusing joke." He laughed nervously. "Now, what is troubling you?"

Hesitating, Red considered. His dreams were troubling as well. Though not as strong an indicator that he could be defective as the visions were, it could still raise red flags. Still, if the Doctor could stop them…

"I've been having nightmares." He confessed. "For the last three nights, I've had bad dreams."

The Doctor's eyes widened. "Nightmares," he murmured, "I haven't heard of a Tallest having a nightmare for at least a century."

Irritated, Red snapped, "Well it's happening now. Can you make it stop?"

With a flinch, the Doctor stammered, "Of course my Tallest. We keep dream suppressants on hand in case of the rare dream that occurs." He turned, walking out of the room. In a few moments he returned with a small container. "Take one of these right before sleeping, it should give you an uninterrupted sleep cycle."

Red took them, tucking them into his armor with a nod. "You are dismissed."

"Thank you, my Tallest." The Doctor bowed, backing out of the room. The spider tilted its body as well, eyes twinkling in a mocking light. Red shuddered with revulsion. He pushed himself out of the chair when he heard the Doctor's voice just outside.

"Nurse, I need more painkillers."

"The headache still, sir?"

"It gets worse every day, I don't know what's causing it."

Red blinked, a hysterical laugh bubbling up from his middle. "The big black spider on your head, idiot!" He almost yelled, but he suppressed both the laugh and the shout, floating out of the medbay with as much dignity as he could muster. As he passed the Doctor, the spider reached out a leg to block his path. He shuddered, but kept floating. The Doctor's hand had passed right through it, so it wasn't real at all. He would pass right through it as well, he assured himself.

It was thick, bristly hair, like the pelt of a Dunghorlt. It poked his skin, raising welts as he passed. It was solid, and bent aside as he pressed on. He paused for a moment, before breaking into a speedy float, trying to ignore the sibilant laughter from behind him.

As he dashed headlong down the hall, he tripped over a pair of table-headed service drones. Dismayed, they quickly stood and scurried to help him.

"My Tallest, so sorry! Please forgive us!" One sputtered.

"We weren't watching where we were going, it won't happen again!" The other panted fearfully.

Frowning, Red opened his mouth to order them to the dungeons, then stopped. Each carted a boulder five times their own size on the tables clamped to their heads.

"Who gave you those rocks to carry?" He returned to his feet, wobbly.

Their heads tilted up to look at him. The rocks, which should have slid off the tables, stayed exactly where they were. "What rocks, my Tallest?"

His breath caught. "Nothing, it was… it was a joke. Carry on." He watched them scamper off down the hall, still bearing the huge boulders on their tables. His breathing started to come faster as he turned and sped down the hall again.

Retreating to his room he closed the doors, then slid down to sit on the floor, eyes wide. Alone, he faced the opposing wall. "The dot wasn't there… the drones looked at me like there was nothing on that screen. They didn't even react to the blood on it, like it wasn't there either… am I going mad?"

_Of course you are._

Red shot up, whirling to his left where a cloaked figure stood.

_None of this is real. Your mind is addled. This is all a product of the monumental stress of being Tallest. Put it out of your head, and if you can't, just act as if you cannot see it._

"And who are you supposed to be?" Red quailed.

_You may call me the collection of your reason and sanity projected in the midst of all this._

Red's world tilted, and he crumpled to the ground as his mind plunged toward the safety of darkness, where he didn't have to sort any of this out.

_That's right. Sleep. It will all go away when you wake up._


	4. Blindfold

_And still the light comes. He shrinks back, ashamed. His royal clothes are in tatters, caked in filth and blood. His skin is raw, chafed, and oozing where the chains have cut into it._

_Why is the light brighter? Doesn't the bearer of the light know they are bringing shame with their light? The darkness was better, it hid the chains, it hid the stench and the filth. No, this is cruelty, to reveal the true state of things. Better to hide in darkness than know that chains are choking him._

…..

Red groaned as he stretched, cracking his neck. He'd fallen asleep on the floor, he noted. Odd, but then the past couple days had been odd.

Or had they? He frowned, sitting up. His memories seemed fuzzy for some reason. Something about a spider. He shrugged. It was probably nothing more than stress that had brought on a few hallucinations. Standing, he passed his hand in front of the lightplate. The room brightened a little, but only to a dim glow. His mouth turned down further. If his lights hadn't been properly changed, some drone was going to spend a few weeks in the dungeons. Opening his door, he hovered out into the hall.

To his surprise, the same dim glow greeted him in the hall. Frowning, he peered into the half light, surprised to see drones and soldiers moving freely and easily through the darkened hallway.

Pausing, he considered. His room had been uncharacteristically dim, and so was the hall. One was plausible, both together unlikely. In fact, as he strained his eyes, he could almost make out folds of fabric in front of his face…

Chuckling, he reached back to untie the cloth from his face. "Very funny, Pur. Blindfolding, so original. Try again when you've got something more…" his hands froze at the knot. Something in his spooch had frozen into a hard knot. Suddenly the last thing in the world he wanted to do was take off the blindfold.

 _This is ridiculous,_ He scolded himself. _I probably look like an idiot walking around with a blindfold on, I have to take it off to see right._

_Don't. Bad things will happen if you take it off._

_Like what, I'll be able to see where I'm going?_

_Bad things. Terrible things._ Irrational fear plagued his mind. _It's not so bad, the blindfold, it's comfortable, isn't it?_

Irritated, he gritted his teeth. _What is my problem? Why is taking this thing off such a big deal? It isn't, and I'll prove it._ With a deep breath, he jerked it off.

The first thing he noticed was the snake coiled around the body of the drone to his left. The second, a batlike wolf-faced creature hovering over a soldier marching down the hall, dive-bombing his head every few moments, squeaking incessantly. The third, was that every single Irken in his line of sight wore a blindfold.

Instinctively, Red glanced down at his hand, where his own blindfold lay. As he stared at it, he noticed it shimmered with dark threads that seemed to draw light into them like little lines of black matter, absorbing and devouring it. Tiny little insects raced up and down its folds, spinning more black lines as they scampered. Repulsed, he flung it away.

It arced through the air, fluttering to rest in the hands of the cloaked figure from the night before.

_My Tallest, I would strongly urge you to reconsider._

"This was from you?" His voice rose. Around him, Irkens glanced up, confusion crossing their faces.

 _We cannot speak here without you looking foolish, they cannot see me. Come._ The figure turned and walked into Red's quarters. Stunned by its audacity, Red followed, ready to order it out of his personal room.

What he saw in his room arrested his tirade and left him speechless. Chains hung from every wall, thick and rusted, draping from wall to wall and floor to ceiling. The floor was cracked and dry dirt. His bedstead had become a shambles of rickety wood and a motheaten mattress.

 _Cruel, isn't it? You are forced to see a world at war you were never meant to see._ The figure sat where the jewelbug table used to be, replaced now by a pile of ash. His cloak, Red could now see, was woven from the same strange material as the blindfold had been.

"You know what's happening to me?" Red croaked. "What is this? Am I going mad?"

_No. It would be easier if you were. Your eyes have been opened to a war. One, I must point out, that has nothing to do with you._

"But why, and by who?"

 _Why, I do not know. And who, does not matter._ The figure straightened, holding out the blindfold again. _I know it dims your vision a bit, but it also blinds you to the happenings of this war. Again, it has nothing to do with you. You would do well to just take this and forget what you've seen. If you continue to watch, you will be forced to choose a side._

"I don't have to choose any sides!" Red exclaimed. "I just want to have normal vision!"

 _The closest to normal vision we can offer you is this._ He held out the blindfold insistently. _Your eyes have been opened, this is the best we can do. And as for not choosing sides,_ he snorted. _Remaining neutral will become increasingly difficult the more you see._

"Well, whose side are you on?" Red demanded. "And what are these sides?"

 _I am restrained from speaking to you about such things. I am only here to offer you this._ He set it down and began walking toward the door.

"Hey, come back!" Red charged after him. "You can't just leave me without a full explanation…" Crashing through the door, he blinked. No one walked the halls. No drones, no soldiers, and no cloaked figure.

Turning, he stared at the blindfold, resting on the mound of ash in his chain-bound room. Did he really want to see this? This alternate vision of his room? These strange creatures hounding his workforce? Yet on the other hand, did he want to walk around groping for walls and handholds the rest of his life?

Exasperated, he grabbed the blindfold and shoved it in his belt. He would decide later, maybe. Perhaps the figure was wrong. He could remain neutral in this strange war he knew nothing about, surely. All he had to do was mind his own business, which currently involved tracking down an annoying little SIR unit. With a jolt, he realized this new vision might help him find the little bot. He hurried toward the new wing, wondering what he would see when he got there.


	5. Light

_"I'm it!" The SIR giggled. "You caughts me, now I gets you!"_

Tallest Red rolled the little cyan orb in between his claws, staring at it. It should have been red. All SIR unit antennae tips and eyes were _red_. So why was this one cyan? It shouldn't matter that it had been defective. There were plenty of defective SIRs, and all were red.

_"Whatcha gonna dooooo with that? Is it a wafflemaker? Am I gonna be a waffle? Am I gonna be a—" CRUNCH._

He tossed it up and down, thoughtfully. Not much was left after the compressor got through with the SIR. The module had been destroyed, along with that infernal message. Now all they had to do was track down these infernal Krissirks who had downloaded the message and execute them. Then this concept would grind to a halt. A few public executions would shut everybody up.

And it would be easy to find them, he grinned. As easy as it had been to find the SIR unit. Blindfold himself? Hah. This new sight, this extra sense or whatever it was would probably help him pinpoint traitors right away. It had already helped him find the SIR unit. He just had to figure out what was different about them.

He glanced at the pile of metallic dust and rubble that had been the insane SIR. His mouth curled into a smirk as he surveyed the destruction. "Where's your message now?"

A wisp of light caught his gaze, and his smirk froze.

Just above the pile of dust, a light was flashing. It was a small, wavery light that curled upward like smoke. For a moment, it hung there, uncertainly, curled in a little ball. Then two more appeared, one on each side of it, flashing brightly. Joyous laughter exploded from the light sources, and Red had to squint as he shielded his eyes with his claws. He didn't recognized one of the voices, but he could almost swear the other sounded like that defect Zim he'd executed a few months before.

The two brighter lights zoomed in toward the wispy ball, circling around and around playfully. The wispy ball in the center grew brighter, and larger, and began to shimmer with laughter.

Red growled at the light, swiping at it with his claws. "What are you?"

The lights merely dodged his claws and began circling his head. Voices spoke urgently to him, something, but he couldn't understand. It was like he was hearing them through several closed doors. Frustrated, he swatted at them again, and they withdrew. They hung in front of him a moment, silently, as if remorseful that they could not communicate. But that only lasted seconds before one giggled, and that spread to the other two. With a last burst of joy, the three balls uncurled into smoky wisps, and darted out of sight.

Red stared at the empty room for a moment, before unleashing a long string of Irken curses. What had just happened? Were they mocking him? Or was he really just losing his mind?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you may have noticed a pattern in my fics. GIR either dies, or is heard very little from. Well, my reason to you is twofold. I don't write crazy well. I write tragedy well. Dead GIR fits both very easily. By the way, just for the record, I'm pretty sure I won't actually be writing the Invader Zim version of the gospels. If you read any kind of Christian fiction, you will see that that concept of Jesus-comes-in-another-universe/time has been done to death. Not that it isn't done creatively, I mean, see Eli by Bill Myers or the Circle Trilogy by Ted Dekker for proof, but I just can't see myself being able to put forward anything creative enough to justify indulging in the cliché. I think one should only write a cliché if they have a fresh take on it. Why yes, I did just plug two of my favorite authors.


	6. Execution

Word passed rather quickly up and down the halls of the massive, and the word was simple. Stay out of Red's way. He was in a foul mood, one of the worst anyone had ever seen. Purple was unpredictable, no one knew when he would capriciously order a drone thrown out the airlock, but everyone knew that when Red was in a bad mood, heads would surely roll.

Red threw open the door to the Irken Information Network Headquarters, startling the half dozen drones running the late night programs. "OUT!" He barked, taking momentary satisfaction in their terrified scramble for the door.

Once alone, he sealed the door and pulled out a chair. "Show me the status of the IPN."

Instantly, the computer displayed half a dozen images from the Irken Propaganda Newscast. For ages, all they'd ever had to work with was the glory of the Tallests, the superiority of the Irken race, and the adventure that was invasion. Now, however, they finally had new bones to cut their teeth on. The subject of Krissirks was everywhere. Every hour there was a new expert on this subversive group that claimed some invisible being was mightier than the Tallests. Some said these Irkens' PAKs had been infected by the module they'd downloaded, rendering them defective. Some said it was an outbreak of Brainworms that needed to be contained. Whatever the cause, all Krissirks were being advised to come in for rehabilitation. Those who did not voluntarily come forward would be arrested, tortured, and likely executed once discovered.

A cheerful Irkeness sat at a newsdesk onscreen, chattering away. Red pulled up that clip.

"…and here we have, live, in the studio, an honest to goodness Krissirk. Don't worry everyone, she's been locked in a clear container, her contagion won't spread."

Two guards rolled in a small glass cell, about the size of a shower stall. Inside stood a rather frightened Irken female, pressing her hands against the glass and scratching to get out.

"The Tallests were most gracious and offered her rehabilitation, but she refused their generosity. As per the Tallests' decree, she will now receive the maximum penalty." The newscaster beamed, flashing a brilliant smile. "You may begin."

The cameras focused on the glass cell, as a guard connected a tube to the side of it. A few seconds later, water poured into the cell. The female Irken began screaming, clawing harder at the sides of the cell as smoke rose from her body.

"As you can see," the newscaster chirped, "This is what happens when you refuse the Tallests generosity. All Krissirks are advised to report themselves immediately for rehabilitation, so they may return to being useful members of Irken society."

The Irkeness' skin melted, leaving the water to strip her leg muscles from the bone. She collapsed into the puddle, water continuing to pour on top of her now.

Red checked the feed. The clip was live. This was happening as he watched. Reaching across to the controls, he grabbed a microphone, overriding the network controls.

The Newscaster, glancing down at her panel, gasped. "It seems we have an override from Tallest Red himself, his Almightiness wishes to speak!"

Pulling the microphone closer, Red peered at the screen. "So. Where is he? Where is this 'Ayam'? Is he going to save you now? In front of us all, and prove he's real?"

The Irkeness' chest heaved as she screamed in agony. The water, up to her neck now, was dark green. She flailed, attempting to keep her head above water, even as the water continued to strip her body away.

"There is no Ayam." Red growled. "There is no authority but mine and Purple's. There's nothing waiting for you. You died for nothing."

With a gasp, the Irkeness' head slipped below the water, the green murk shielding her final moments from view.

"Well," The Newscaster crowed, "There you have it, there is no one mightier than the Almighty Tallests."

Red leaned back, his mood lifted a little. Nothing had happened. No great and powerful being had stopped this execution, and none would stop the others to come. Soon, all this would just be a memory.

An Irken walked across the set on screen. He appeared to be no taller than an average invader, a little shorter even. Nothing about him stood out, standard issue boots, gloves, and uniform. But something about him caught Red's eye. Maybe it was the way he carried himself. Maybe it was the look on his face, some strange mixture of anger and grief. Maybe it was the fact that no random Irken could walk on the set of a News Network without an uproar, and yet no one even looked at him.

Whatever it was, the Irken stopped at the tank, kneeling beside it. For a moment, he bowed his head, hand placed on the glass of the cell. His shoulders shook.

_Her name was Teruna._

Red jerked back, the voice reverberating in the room, from all corners.

The Irken in the video didn't move, but now a small spot in the murky water was glowing. It moved toward the Irken's hand, and he pulled his hand away from the glass, slowly drawing the light out and away with his hand.

Again, from all corners of the room, came a feminine voice, choking on tears. _In my last moments I cursed you. I was afraid. I was in pain. I cursed you. And before that, I wondered if you really existed, to let me fall into their hands._

The Irken held the flickering light in his hands, and gently lifted it to his lips, pressing a kiss to it.

_You believed I would come, though. Come now. Come home with me._

The sobbing slowly ebbed away, and in its place, a small giggle. And then a laugh. And then gales upon gales of joyful laughter, ringing back and forth between the walls of the Headquarters where Red cowered in his chair, eyes glued to the screen. The light in the Irken's palms shot away, out of the room and away from the view of the camera.

And then the Irken turned straight to the camera. The Newscaster continued to chatter on and on as he approached the camera, growing larger in the screen as he approached. Red shrank back against the chair, eyes wide.

 _Know this, Red. You are murdering my children._ The Irken's face was twisted in rage and grief. _The count is heavy against you, and it will continue to grow. Decide, before the decision is taken from you, which path you will walk._

Red bolted out of his seat, tearing out of the room as fast as he could. He ducked into his quarters, then slumped against the wall, moaning. He couldn't even take comfort in his lavish quarters, as now he could only see it as a dismal dungeon. What was going on? Why was this happening to him? Why couldn't anyone else see what he was seeing, or hear what he heard?

And why did this Irken speak of a path, like the hooded figure spoke of a war? What did any of it have to do with him?

…..

_And still the light comes. He shrinks back, ashamed. His royal clothes are in tatters, caked in filth and blood. His skin is raw, chafed, and oozing where the chains have cut into it._

_Why is the light brighter? Doesn't the bearer of the light know they are bringing shame with their light? The darkness was better, it hid the chains, it hid the stench and the filth. No, this is cruelty, to reveal the true state of things. Better to hide in darkness than know that chains are choking him._

_A hand touches his shoulder. He jerks his head up. He can't see. His ocular implants focus and refocus, but it's no good, they can't get a fix on the bearer of the light. Just the hand that rests on his shoulder. It's a three-clawed hand._


	7. Puppets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Hecallsmehischild: I promised you guys a surprise, and here it is. GUEST CHAPTER WRITTEN ENTIRELY BY INVADER SIDEOS! This has been in the planning stages and works for months. This guy is one of the best established Invader Zim writers on fanfiction. I've been following his work for a long time, and there are few who can match. Check out his stuff!
> 
> Note from Invader Sideos: So it's been like, what? Five? Six years of me knowing HeCalls and I'm only just now writing a guest chapter for them? It just goes to show what kind of lasting power HeCalls has on not just the fandom of IZ, but on the people she befriends. She was one of the first people to ever comment and follow my work and somehow through six years of me flip flopping on hiatuses, not finishing work and all kinds of bad things, she's still been a friend to me. HeCalls is one of the best writers I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. I've been writing for six years and her work still manages to put mine to shame simply because she has such a wonderful way of making you care so deeply about it. Seriously. Her work is so enduring and wonderful to read because all her characters, whether they be from a show or an OC seem so… real. She writes from the heart and it shines through like a bright light. So here it is, far too late and far too little a gift to a person who deserves to have their work put on the shelves of Barns and Noble so everyone in the world can know how great a writer they are.

Purple groaned slightly and put a hand to his forehead. Lately his head had been killing him and today seemed to be the worst of it. His PAK had been issuing him painkillers but nothing seemed to be working.

"So what is this 'Elyon' thing again?" Purple asked as he tried to ignore the throbbing ache in his temple. He was being briefed on the upcoming trial by Makiavell, one of his chief advisors of the High Council of Irkens.

The brown cloaked irken sighed slightly. "My Tallest, it is a word being spread by the Krissirks, from what we've gathered it means 'The Most High Being'." Makiavell waved a long fingered hand at one of the holograms before the Tallest.

They were walking down a long hallway in The Massive towards the 'Judging Room' where they would pass sentence on a poor unfortunate waiting on his fate.

"I… see… kinda." Purple rubbed the side of his head before shaking it. "I don't see."

"It's an insult my Tallest. To you." Makiavell pointed to Purple. "It is implying that this Ayam creature is Taller than you."

"What?!" Purple stopped in his tracks. "That's impossible! I'm the Tallest!"

"Exactly, my Tallest." Makiavell bowed a little before raising his hand towards the huge and ornate looking double doors that stood before them. "We recently captured a Speaker and now you must pass their sentence."

"A Speaker?" Purple paused, his hand on one of the double doors.

"They are the ones who spread the word of this 'Ayam' in a very literal sense, my Tallest." The irken bowed a little. "Sending him to his death will most certainly stop him speaking anymore of his lies."

Purple blinked in shock at this. Send someone to their death? Sure it wasn't something that was unusual but to do it himself seemed a little… worrisome. Usually Red was here by his side to give him confidence but lately he'd seen so little of him he felt like they weren't even friends any more. He would have to visit him after this, to make sure his oldest and closest friend wasn't silently going insane or worse… defective. Even Purple, who paid little attention to the rumbles of the masses knew that having such a scandal happen would make him look bad.

Purple wasn't completely stupid. He knew this was a bad time to be the leader of their empire… he just didn't know what he could do about it. Everything seemed so out of his hands.

He really wished Red was here.

Everyone had stood up and bowed as he had walked in. All except the accused.

Purple hated this. All eyes were on him, expecting him to be this great leader of the nation. All he really wanted to do was sit down somewhere in his underclothes and read a book or something. Purple liked reading books, though he tried not to tell anyone about it. He had always been a dreamer and books were his way of getting away from the world. To sit down somewhere nice and warm with his tablet and read away was his de-stress after a long hard day of ruling an Empire.

He slumped into his chair and waved a hand for everyone to sit down. His was an ornate and beautiful thing with hues of purple. Sitting right beside it was a twin, with hues of red. Today of course it was empty. The people of the court took their places. The accused stood with his hands and feet clamped together while the prosecutor stood with a smile on his face to match his sharp red suit and sharper red eyes.

Around Purple, in lower and less fancy chairs, sat the Council. Six of them in all, with Purple being the seventh. Collectively would decide the fate of the accused, though in reality they almost always voted in favor of whatever the Tallest said, as the Tallest was both chief judge and jury. Cameras floated through the room, as this was a public event after all.

The irken in the red suit started as soon as Purple waved a hand. "We stand here today to decide the new ruling of those practicing the illegal… rantings," Red suit rolled a hand, as if looking for the right insult to apply, "How does the accused plead?"

"Not guilty." The irken had bright green eyes and was somewhat tall, and slender.

"My Tallest as you can see the accused denies his involvement in this terrorist movement." The irken in red announced with the wave of a hand towards the accused.

"We are not a terrorist movement." The accused announced sharply. "We are the truth! The word of Ayam is truth!"

Purple wasn't paying attention. His head was killing him. He leaned forward slightly and closed his eyes. For a moment he felt like he was floating before he opened his eyes, the drama of the courtroom like TV static in the background.

What he saw caused a cold sweat to run across his skin.

Dark figures hovered, no, flickered above each and every person in the courtroom. He looked behind him in panic, but saw none above him… then he noticed there was no flickering shadow above the accused either.

Okay, this was impossible. No, it wasn't impossible, it was just a very bad migraine and it was starting to make him see things. Purple clenched his jaw as he watched the mouths of the irkens in the room move, though he didn't hear anything. That static sound seem to just hover over everything, but he could hear something through it.

A distant wind, or maybe a whisper, like hearing the weather from the other end of a very long tunnel.

"My Tallest?" Makiavell's voice suddenly cut to him. "Your opening question?"

Purple blinked at this before shaking his head, trying to ignore the dark flickers above the heads of his advisers. "Oh, erm, yeah, right, erm…" His mind went blank, mostly because of his pounding headache. "What's your name?"

There was an awkward silence in the room before the irken in red pointed to himself. "I am Valac, my Tallest."

"My name is Dantie." The accused irken announced, his head held high. "And I am a Krissirk."

"Please don't utter profanities in front of our Tallest." Valac announced with a frown. "And especially not on national TV."

"My belief, my faith is not a profanity!" Dantie called out loudly and struggled against his chains.

"See how he fights his captors! I put to you, my Tallest, if he were to be set free." Valac paused for a moment to smile at Purple, but Purple could see something different. The dark figure snaking around his head like black pollution suddenly moved and whispered something into Valac's antennae. "He would surely be attacking you now, or those you care about! Or worse, convincing others of his mad delusion and driving them to the same criminal acts!"

Purple could see them now. Strings of black smoke that seemed embedded into the back of the neck and the hands of every person in the room. Puppets. They were being used just like Puppets by these strange dark shadows. Purple could taste it on his tongue, that strange, brimstone like taste that seemed so gritty and terrifying for reasons beyond his understanding.

It made him feel sick to his stomach and he wanted to get up and get out of the room, to run from these terrible smoke-like beings. However he couldn't. Something was holding him to this spot, forcing him to pass judgment over this man.

And perhaps over himself.

He could already feel one, swirling around his head. It made his headache even worse and the bitter taste of ash in his mouth even more prominent. Yet he also felt dizzy, lazy, as something in him begged to give in and give way.

He could hear it whispering in his ear, promising peace and quiet from this harsh rule. Let them deal with everything. Don't let their lies of salvation and souls to get in the way of an easy life.

It sounded so nice...

"Tell us how you believe this... Ayam." As the lawyer spoke the name the shadows seemed to shudder, as if it was terrible for them to even hear it spoken. "Will save you?"

"He is everything that is good in this universe." Dantie spoke softly. "He is all things."

The dark spirit was already at the lawyer's antennae. "If that is true why does this mighty being not come and solve all our problems?" Valac barked back. "A deity who does nothing is no deity at all."

Dantie frowned at Valac. "He is not some kind of errand boy to do our bidding. We serve Him. The reality of Him is within us, but we have to make it work as we are a part of Him too!"

Valac smirked and looked to the judges, shrugging. "Did any of you get that? I think we need a translator unit for crazy in here."

The judges all laughed and Dantie only frowned. However, he seemed to notice that Purple was not laughing with them. Rather, the Tallest had a dazed, almost blank look to his eyes. "Purple?"

Purple blinked, jolting back into reality. "Wha- what is it?" His headache was so strong and the whispers now constant in his antennae.

"Tallest Purple, if you admit that there is one Taller than you, an Elyon, then you too can be saved! I promise!" Dantie called out to the Tallest, his eyes wide. "Please! Open your eyes! Even if you kill me my soul will go to be with Him! But you will forever be sentenced to oblivion in darkness!"

"And what kind of all loving being would do that?" Valac announced, stepping before Dantie with his arms held wide. "Why make things fallible and punish them for doing wrong?"

"Because we should know we're doing wrong and do right by Ayam's name!" Dantie shouted back, and again, Purple saw the whispering shadow creatures shudder at the name.

"Why doesn't he just force us to obey it?" Valac smirked back, smug in his own spiritual ignorance.

"Because we are not slaves and He does not want us to be so." Dantie's words seem to give him an almost golden shimmer. It was strange but the light drove back the demonic ash-shadows around him. "He wants us to acknowledge His light as the truth."

"The truth is that you are insane and a defective and you're spreading your lies to corrupt those around you." Valac announced loudly, stepping in front of Dantie, pointing a long sharp finger at him. "You deserve nothing more than death."

"And I welcome it." Dantie replied calmly. "As I will go with Him to the Homeplace."

Purple felt like a great weight was crushing down on him, the whispers now like hissing snakes in his antennae. He wanted this to be over, this horrible experience crushing him. But the whispering told him how to end it, all he had t do was give the believer death and he could have it all, he could have his piece, his little patch of lazy in a terrible universe.

_Just give him death._

"The so called Krissirk has spoken then!" Valac announced loudly, turning to look at the judges. "I give the judgment to you, my Taller and Tallest. What is your verdict?"

One by one each judge voiced their opinion. Each proclaimed that public execution would be the way to go. Each of course, being puppeted and commanded by the ash-shadows that surrounded them, controlling their tongues with unseen black strings.

Purple could feel them. The sharp, painful needles of the strings scratching at the skin on his hands, itching to bury themselves deep into his body... to take away his own actions.

_Just give him death._

"And what say you, my Tallest?" Valac called out. "What ultimate verdict do you cast?"

The ash was clouding his senses, the hissing now screaming in his throbbing head. Why was everything so painful? Why was this so hard? Why couldn't he just run away and hide and never have to face any of this again?

_Just give him death._

"I... I..." The strings pushed through his skin and Purple almost yelped in pain. He couldn't hold back any more and he felt his heart give way to something cold and comforting... something that felt so very temporary but so sweet.

The screaming vanished and now all he could hear was a faint whispering in his own head. Surely that was his own voice?

"Death. Public execution." Purple announced with a new sureness. He didn't have to care about this anymore.

Dantie's head did not fall. Instead he looked up and he mouthed. "I'm sorry." Before the guards came and grabbed him by the arms, dragging him away.

Valac only grinned at he watched him before he turned and looked to his Tallest. "You made the right choice, my Tallest."

"Yeah." Purple stood up, his limbs moving in a robotic manner. "I know."

Strange... he could still taste the ash on his tongue...


	8. Fraying

A whole day-cycle had passed and Red had not left his quarters. The medic had timidly inquired at his door, and had been warded off by a sharp command. Since then, no one had approached, though all his personal drones were worried what they would find when they were finally called upon.

What they would have found, had they opened the door, was a much more haggard Tallest than they had last seen. He had opted out of sleep, to ward off the dream, but the memory of it remained. That, and the image of the strange Irken on the cameras, telling him he had to make a choice. Just like the hooded figure. Were they on the same side?

No. He was a military commander, he could tell opposing forces when he saw them, and opposing tactics. The hooded figure might not be a commander, he wasn't sure, but it had been trying to hide this war from him, and told him that if he turned his eyes away from the war he would not have to choose. The invisible-to-everyone-else Irken had told him quite clearly that if he didn't choose at all, his path would be chosen for him.

Hysterical laughter bubbled up from his chest. The Invisible-To-Everyone-Else Irken? He really was going insane.

But if the hooded figure wanted the war hidden, then that meant the Invisible Irken was the one responsible for his seeing. Anger roiled in his guts. He was the one responsible for Red's nightmarish visions, possibly even the dreams. Yes, it all made sense. He had seen an Irken hand clasping his shoulder in the last dream, the one with the light that showed all the chains and filth.

At this he had begun to pace. But what if the chains and filth were what was real? What if all the power and stateliness of his room was nothing more than a beautiful dungeon? What if, all around him, his whole army was under attack and he was not really the commander of his own people, but an entirely other force pulled their strings?

And round and round the pile of ash and the rickety, moth-eaten bed he paced. For hours, struggling back and forth, teetering on the edge of madness.

_Her name was Teruna._

The name of the executed Irken didn't even register. There were too many Irkens in his Empire to know all their names. How did this Irken know? She wasn't even that tall, not noteworthy or mentionable. Why did he bother learning her name?

Whatever was happening, Red realized, it was getting worse. In the beginning, he'd only seen a few small occurrences. The blood on the screen and the dot indicating the landing place of the SIR unit. Then a few of his staff with creatures on or near them. Then all the Irkens, and his quarters. If he walked out there now, what would he see? He shuddered to think.

Purple. Maybe Purple would be able to set him straight. It had been days since he'd seen his co-Tallest. He probed for Purple through his PAK.

He frowned. All he received was static. Was Purple's PAK undergoing repairs? He threw out tendrils, commanding information on Purple.

Purple had recently been in a council session regarding a Krissirk. All Krissirks were to be condemned, but they had placed it on public trial for the benefit of the rest of the Empire. It had been condemned by Tallest Purple, and was being held for execution.

A Krissirk was on board. His frown deepened. The Invisible Irken had accused Red of murdering his children, and mourned the death of this "Teruna" who had also been a Krissirk. If the Invisible Irken was responsible for his seeing, perhaps this Krissirk would be able to explain.

He cracked his claws, a low growl escaping him. Not perhaps, this Krissirk _would_ explain his strange malady, or he would suffer for a long time before his death.

…

Afraid to see what changes had been wrought in the time he'd locked himself away, Red had tied on the blindfold. It was temporary, he assured himself, trying not to think of the insects running all along the folds. Just so he could get down to the holding cells.

He hovered along perfectly normal—if dimly lit—halls, past perfectly normal drones, soldiers, and staff. He felt his shoulders and spine sagging, relaxing as tension bled out of him. He hadn't realized how stiffly he'd been holding himself, afraid of what he would see. Now, he didn't have to worry. He almost chuckled as he entered the holding cells.

It was a vast room, stretching both wide and tall. All along the walls were tiny rooms, giving each prisoner 14 square feet of bare floor with three walls and a shock-fortified forcefield. It didn't matter the size of the prisoner, everyone received the same space. The larger prisoners were the most miserable, having to press against the back walls to keep from getting shocked. Red was not worried, everyone here was a criminal and deserved their fate.

Calling over the nearest overseer, he barked, "I want the Krissirk scheduled for execution by Tallest Purple earlier. I believe it to be withholding information vital to our ability to extinguish their threat. Set up an interrogation unit, I want to see it there in five minutes."  
"Certainly my Tallest." The overseer saluted. "I will have two of my best interrogators prepare the equipment and extract the necessary information—"

"That won't be necessary." Red cut him off with a swipe of his hand. "I will be conducting this interrogation myself."

The overseer's antennae rose in surprise, but he knew better than to question a Tallest. "We will have the prisoner delivered to interrogation block 27Z in ten minutes."

"Make it five." Red turned, hovering in that direction. "I'm not feeling patient today."


	9. Choose

Red entered the interrogation room just as the guards hurriedly finished clamping the Krissirk onto the table. He walked up next to the table as the guards scooted past him and out the door, closing it behind them.

The room was small, but humming with electricity. The walls were covered with complex, flashing computer panels. Several dozen wires spilled out of the panels, hooking into the PAK of the unfortunate Irken who lay on his stomach, locked onto the table by his arms, legs, and neck. There was a small hole for his face to peer through to the floor, but he was unable to see Tallest Red.

"So. You're the Krissirk they captured." Red flicked on the datapad at the end of the table. Dantie was his name. The files noted him as a former Irken Information Network presenter, a lower level one who had begun the crazytalk about this Ayam, Elyon, whoever-it-was that was greater than the Tallests out of nowhere after one of the SIR unit's stops on an occupied planet. He'd been turned in by the rest of his team immediately, and had remained in solitary confinement since. He did not, Red noted, seem the worse for wear considering how long he'd been in solitary.

"Yes My Tallest." His voice was low, almost discouraged, but Red startled.

"How did you know it was me?" He demanded.

"Your voice, my Tallest, everyone recognizes you and Tallest Purple."

Red forced himself to relax. Of course this Irken had no higher intuition, he had to stop being paranoid. Just because he was seeing things didn't mean everyone had eyes in the back of their heads.

"Yes. Of course. Audio units intact." He coughed, moving over to one of the wall panels. He reached over to the wall panel, then halted a moment. How was he supposed to ask this Krissirk his question without seeming like he'd lost his wits completely?

It didn't matter. A few seconds of torture would warm the prisoner to answering his questions and buy him time to figure out how to phrase them. His claws tapped out a pattern on the panel.

The Krissirk's body spasmed, the computer convincing his senses through his PAK that there were a million tiny biting insects just under his skin. The Irken cried out, and Red smirked. This was no trained soldier, just a news reporter. Breaking him would be simple. He allowed the first simulation to run for thirty seconds before switching it off. The Irken's body slumped in relief.

"Your name is Dantie, is it?" Red made his voice gentler than usual. "Tell me, Dantie, who told you these lies you've been spreading? Who infected you?"

"I wasn't infected." He took a shaky breath. "My eyes were opened, and I saw—"

"What did you see?" Red rounded on him, his voice sharp.

"I saw the truth, that we were set here by something much greater than the Tallests! The Control Brains! The Empire even!"

Red forced his shoulders to relax. He had to stop jumping at fragments. "Interesting truth, sounds like treason to me." He tapped on the panel again, causing Dantie's right arm to feel as though it was being dissolved in water. He focused on the spiking readout and the shrieks behind him. He dialed it back again. "So tell me, along with this truth, what else do you see?"

There was silence for a bit, and Red allowed the traitor to regain his breath.

"What else, my Tallest?"

Red's antennae lifted, and he shifted direction. " 'My Tallest,' this is the second time you have called me this. I thought only this Ayam or Elyon was allowed to rule you."

"No, we are encouraged to obey and respect our Tallest excepting if their orders contradict Ayam, My Tallest. I swear I have always done so, only you say we cannot follow Ayam and not speak of him, and I cannot do this."

"Cannot, cannot. You speak as if you are physically unable to. I say if I cut out your tongue THEN you cannot speak of him. What do you think of that?"

"Then I will write about him." Dantie answered.

"And if I cut off your hands?" Red hastily added, anticipating, "And your feet, should you learn to write with those."

"Then I will transmit with my PAK."

"And if your PAK is erased?"

There was silence a moment. Then, "I will direct my last moments to Asking Ayam for My Tallests."

"Asking for us?" Red puzzled over the sentence.

"Asking. It is what we do when we speak to Ayam. We Ask him."

"And how do you know that he hears you?" Red demanded.

"He promises that he does in the Letters. And some can hear him too."

Red rounded on Dantie, gripping the back of his neck hard, his face grim. "Hear him? How do you hear what you can't even see?"

Dantie's vertebrate strained under Red's grip, and he gasped, "Some say… they have faint thoughts… thoughts they would never think themselves… Some see faint pictures… but it's always… dim… like looking… through a blindfold…"

Red jerked his hand away as if burned. The blindfold. He'd forgotten he was wearing it. Now would be the perfect time to take it off and see what this rebel was really made of. He reached up to touch the folds—

-and a thousand fears descended on him. He could almost feel them raking his skin, worming into his mind.

_Why do you want to take it off?_

_It's not even there, you'll look ridiculous._

_What if you see something horrible?_

_What if someone sees you reacting?_

_What if you can't put it back on later?_

_What if you go blind?_

_What if you die?_

Each reason seemed more and more desperate than the last, but he found himself frozen in place, even as he strained to move his arms. The armor suddenly felt heavy, so very heavy, and the distance to his face was such a long ways away.

He blinked. No it wasn't, his hand was frozen an inch away from his face. As soon as the realization hit him, he gripped the blindfold and yanked it away from his face before anything else stopped him.

The room was not empty. One half of the room was crowded with all manner of creatures. Spiders with spikes jutting off their legs and fangs the size of daggers, snarling beasts with wings and tentacles, and great monsters with snaking necks and eyes of flame. All these and more crouched nearby him, many of them shouting, barking, whispering, and shrieking aloud the thoughts he had just been thinking.

They huddled near Red, pressed back away from the other half of the room, which was bathed in light. There on the table, facedown, an Irken warrior lay strapped in place. He was outfitted with the highest tech weaponry Irk had to offer, and Red could read great strength and training in the body. But where did the traitor go?

"My Tallest?" Dantie's voice came from the Irken warrior. "Did something happen?" His voice was guarded. "Are you going to turn on the machine again?"

 _Yes!_ The voices around Red hissed. _The machine, turn it on all the way!_

One of the snake-necked ones put its head under his arm, guiding it up toward the computer panel.

He yanked his arm back, horrified, backing away from them. "STOP THAT!" He roared. "I AM TALLEST HERE, NOT YOU! YOU DO NOT TELL ME WHAT TO DO!"

"I didn't do anything," Dantie sounded alarmed. "My Tallest?"

The beasts all eyed Red. The hooded figure stepped out from their midst, standing in front of the beasts _. My Tallest,_ he said mildly, _Surely you haven't chosen to keep this sight… and if you have, surely you haven't chosen the losing side._

"The losing side?" Red's breath came short and fast. "What are you talking about? I just want—"

 _You threw the chance for a normal reign aside._ The figure oozed sincerity, extending a hand. It was a pale Irken hand. _Come, My Tallest. You have chosen to see, but see what we can do for you. We will ensure your reign is long, secure, and untroubled by these Krissirks and their Letters. It will be a glorious thing, I will see to it myself._

Red stared at the hand. This too was another Irken who could not be seen? "Who are you?" He demanded.

The figure drew back its hood. An Irken face stared back at him, its eyes pitch black. They seemed to absorb all light around them as they stared intently at Red. The skin was pale, but not unpleasant to look at. The face was perfectly symmetrical, and Red could see great cunning and power in the way the Irken held himself.

Himself? Red peered at the Irken, disturbed to realize he could not tell the gender of the Irken. With some alarm, he realized this Irken was quite a bit taller than he—had he always been so tall? Would he threaten Red's rule?

As if in answer to his unspoken question, the Irken bent to a knee, bowing his head. _My Tallest,_ his voice was soft, _I am ever your servant. Come, I will show you many things and make you wise beyond the wildest dreams of any of your kind. Let us go now._ He stretched out his hand to Red, once again.

As if in a dream, Red could see his own hand stretching out, reaching…

"I'm Dantie," a voice broke in, responding to Red's question. "And I serve Ayam."

The creatures recoiled, howling, and the Irken figure's form rippled.

Red jerked his hand back. Only the losing side called the winning side the losing side when attempting to persuade an ally. And if a mere sentence could shake these creatures, then theirs was the lesser power.

The Irken's eyes burned with cold hatred. _My Tallest,_ he said, his voice still mild, _You have made a terrible mistake, and your punishment will be most enjoyable to mete out._


	10. Stained

Red reeled back, his hand fumbling for the release button. _The warrior will protect me!_ He slammed his fist on the button, as the wires and bonds retracted.

"To your feet!" He roared. "Defend your Tallest!"

Dantie struggled to his feet, and stared around in confusion. "My Tallest," He gripped the side of the table to hold himself up, his system still trying to recover from the torture, "I see nothing here."

The black-eyed Irken turned and made his way out of the room, leaving the way out blocked by all the other creatures. Red rounded on the warrior. "What do you mean you see noth—"

Dantie was outfitted in Irk's best weaponry and giving off quite a bit of light, but around his eyes was tied a thick blindfold.

Reaching forward, Red grabbed the blindfold, ripping it away from his face. Dantie's eyes widened, his mouth forming an "o" as he clutched at the table harder.

"Do something!" Red demanded.

Dantie almost seemed not to hear him. "Oh… Ayam… what is this?"

The creatures recoiled as Dantie spoke, and one of the snake-necked creatures darted toward Dantie. Instinctively, Dantie raised his hands in defense. "No!" Light cracked outward in a wave from him, knocking the attacking beast senseless.

Grabbing him, Red placed the Irken in front of him, breathing hard. "Make a path!" He ordered.

"But, how?" Dantie stared at them.

"You don't _know?_ " Red snarled. "They seem to know what you are talking about, they wanted you dead earlier, how do you not know about them?!"

Dantie tilted his head. "They… are they the Enemies?"

Red groaned. "None of your flirking Krissirk talk, just make a path!"

Dantie insisted, "My Tallest I don't know how, I'm no soldier!"

"You're covered in armor! When you talk they move!" Red shouted. "Tell them to move!"

"M-move!" Dantie blurted. "Make way!"

The creatures writhed, attempting to lock together to block the way, but it was as if they were being pulled apart from each other. Encouraged, Dantie repeated himself, and there, just ahead, they could see the door.

Red propelled Dantie forward palming the lock and darting out. He rushed out, leaving flustered guards in his wake, only one thought in his mind.

_I have to find Purple. We can fix this together. He'll back me._

"My Tallest, where are we going?" Dantie stumbled forward as Red kept pushing him. He raised his head and sucked in a breath.

Red didn't respond. He had already seen it, and kept moving. The walls were lined with ancient looking prison bars, dark green liquid pooling out from the cells across their path. And not just dark green liquid. Some was red, some purple, some pink and some blue. Many, many colors, but all assaulting Red's senses with the sickly sweet stench of blood.

He drove Dantie before him almost frantically. The puddles did not touch the prisoner, but as Red passed it surged forward, sliding up and around him, staining his clothes and dripping from his body with every step. He cried out, gagging in horror and flailing, but he could not stop it.

"Red?"

Red turned. "Pur!" He cried out, "Pur you gotta help me, I'm going ins—" The plea died in his throat.

Ahead of him in the hall hovered Tallest Purple, looking the same as always. Same puzzled expression, same purple robes and armor, same casual authority in his posture. But Red could see thick black strings attached to his hands and feet, his head, and even his mouth. The strings led back behind Purple, vanishing into an inky black haze that seemed to fill the hall behind him. As Red watched, the strings tightened, and Purple shook his head and began to talk.

"Red, I've been hearing from the guards, the staff, even the flirking drones. This is going too far. We have to get you looked at, you know what'll happen if the Brains find out you've been behaving like this. Come on."

Red backpedaled, his eyes fixed on the strings.

As he stepped back, Purple's eyes dulled, and his face twisted into a wry grin. "Oh. I see. It's like that. Don't be so afraid." The strings lifted his arms with a swift jerk. "They're very comfortable, and I don't have to think so much."

Red's grip on Dantie tightened, and the Irken gave a strangled cry as Red's claws sank into his shoulders.

The black-eyed Irken stepped out of the haze, the other ends of the thick, black strings in his hands. _"You see,"_ he and Purple spoke at the same time, _"It isn't so bad. In fact, it's much preferable to your current state."_

"Don't listen to him my Tallest!" Dantie's voice rang out sharply. "Whatever he says is a lie, that's the Enemy!"

 _"Enemy?"_ The Irken gave a low chuckle. _"Such a harsh term. Definitely one given by the opposing side, that is hardly fair now, is it?"_

"You said I would be punished and you would enjoy it!" Red managed.

 _"Did I?"_ The Irken raised an eyeridge mockingly. _"What did I say?"_

"I—" Red clutched at his head.

 _"You're not sure of anything anymore."_ Purple and the black-eyed Irken moved forward in unison. Red could see himself reflected in those eyes, being drawn into them and sucked into their depths. _"If you will not choose because you fear us to be weaker, then join us for the simple reason that you will never be accepted by the Other."_

Red's heart stopped for a moment, and he wasn't even sure why.

 _"You heard it from His own mouth, did you not? 'The count is heavy against you.' You are a murderer, my Tallest. The evidence is all over you. How many races have you ordered war on? The Slaughtering Rat People. Vortians. Meekrob. You are constantly executing your own. I do believe you were even partly responsible for a little Earth child's death."_ Both wagged their heads from side to side disapprovingly. _"He does not take murderers, Red. You are lost. And there is only one recourse for the lost who_ **know** _that they are lost."_ The Irken stretched out a hand, baring his teeth with a cold, bitter rage. _"To cause as much devastation as possible before the end."_

Once again, Red stood frozen. From the Irken's outstretched hand sprouted more black strings, slowly reaching toward him. As they drew nearer, Red could feel a wail building up from some place deep inside himself, a scream born of desperation and terror that swelled larger and louder the closer the strings came, but all that came out of his mouth was a shadow of the scream, a ghost of a whisper from the deepest part of himself.

"Help me."

A flash of light exploded in between Red and Purple, flinging Purple back and leaving Red and Dantie standing. Dantie grabbed Tallest Red's arm and yanked, straining to move him. "My Tallest we must go!"

Red remained where he was, unable to move. His mind was a jumbled mass of confusion, he could barely piece together a coherent thought.

"My Tallest I can't move you, you're too heavy!"

"Armor," came out of his mouth automatically, "Release catches you stupid drones, you can't even remember where they are, I'll do it myself." Numbly, he undid the catches around his wristguards, and twisted the lock on his chestplate. Three hundred pounds of armor clanked to the ground, and he pulled off his hover belt as well, his feet hitting the ground hard.

As soon as he hit the ground, Dantie was jerking him down the hall and away from Purple. "My Tallest, where are the escape pods?" He asked. "Or the Voots?"

"Voots, docking bay," Red mumbled, "Lower levels, Oro quadrant."

Dantie dragged Red down the hall, away from his Co-Tallest, who had begun to shout for a lockdown, demanding the immediate arrest of one Tallest Red for high treason and insanity.


	11. Protected

_A hand touches his shoulder. He jerks his head up. He can't see. His ocular implants focus and refocus, but it's no good, they can't get a fix on the bearer of the light. Just the hand that rests on his shoulder. It's a three-clawed hand._

_He hears a voice. He feels as though he has heard it before, but can't quite place where. The tone is so full and rich, and expresses so many different emotions. Love. Sorrow. Authority. Joy._

_But how could Joy and Sorrow co-exist? Where was there a place for Love in Authority?_

_And yet the one word that the voice spoke pulls at him, and he feels a longing in a place he cannot point to as it washes over him._

_"Come."_

…

Red opened his eyes, adjusting for a moment as he took in his surroundings. A tense-looking Irken with a fatigued expression sat in the pilot's seat of a Voot cruiser—so he was in a Voot—as stars and space debris whirled past them at alarming speeds.

The Irken turned to him—Dantie, his mind filled in—still dressed in full armor.

"My Tallest, you're awake!" Was that relief? "There's only so much the autopilot can do, and I don't know how to fly this. You have to steer, they're catching up!"

Numbly, Red rose, pushing Dantie out of the seat and taking his place. He glanced at the last command given to the computer, which appeared to be something along the lines of "Help, the Tallest is in danger, get us out of here!" That would have been enough to activate the emergency AI hardwired into all Voots. In case of emergency evacuation of a Tallest, all ships were programmed to divert all excess power to speed and shielding, and fly into deep space as fast as possible.

But Purple would know how to track him, and would know about this protocol.

Red flipped open the control panel, disconnecting a few wires, and cross-wiring others. _No more tracking._ Turning back to the wheel, he said, "Deactivate Tallest Rescue protocol 71569."

"But, My Tallest!" Dantie protested.

"Speed won't help now." Red said flatly. "Unpredictability will." His claws tightened around the steering. "Talk, Krissirk. What happened?"

"You collapsed when we got to the Voot My Tallest. I just… shouted at the ship computer, and it got us out of the docking bay before it locked down. But My Tallest, have you seen—"

"I don't have TIME to see things right now!" Red snapped. "See what you will, I have to see our way out of this!" On the console, he noted fifteen blips closing in fast. They would try and take him alive, but once he'd downed four or five of them, they would switch to kill mode. Purple would bemoan his Co-Ruler who had gone insane, and the Empire would be run by a puppet to an unseen force that nobody could combat.

Briefly, he wondered how Purple would feel if he died. If he could still think and feel for himself.

He scanned the rest of the controls for information and paused. The display had an odd readout on it. Usually it would only list nearby planets, ships, and basic information on the Voot itself. However the display had one planet highlighted in yellow, and a path leading to it. The icon representing Red's Voot even looked like it was on fire.

Was his sight guiding a plan of action?

Of course. The nearby planet was Junkyardia. If he allowed the cruiser to appear hit, and he was seen going down in smoke toward that planet… of course they would search for his remains, but who would find one incinerated Voot among all the wreckage all over the planet? Pur would know he'd given them the slip, but it would buy him some time to think.

His claws were slippery with the feel of blood, and he almost vomited, realizing he was still covered in the stuff. Turning the Voot to face the oncoming squad, he muttered, "Hold tight," before releasing several volleys.

Two rounds found their marks, and two patrols exploded. The others began firing on Red's Voot. He evaded their fire and ordered, "Computer, smoke from the main engine, and lots of it. Flames if you can manage."

**Cover damage initiated.**

Red turned back, following the path marked on the readout. "Boost speed, simulate damaged flight pattern."

**Crash cover initiated.**

The Voot began to shake uncontrollably, weaving badly as it spiraled toward the planet. Dantie barely managed to strap himself down as they hit the atmosphere. They were plummeting through a sort of golden haze, not the normal atmospheric burnoff, but Red didn't have time to look.

"On my mark eject," Red ordered, "Record final command as negated by malfunctioning eject function in the logs."

**False trail initiated.**

"What?" Dantie shouted. "Eject?"

**Ejecting.**

"No!" Red shouted as the cockpit opened, spewing them out into midair. Cursing, he turned on his PAK jets, slowing his fall. Dantie hurtled past him in free fall.

Of course, news informants had no need for jets in their PAKs. But Red had need of this Dantie now. He dove for the Irken, catching him by the arm. They descended slowly onto the surface of Junkyardia and stood, taking stock of their surroundings.

To the right, a plume of dark smoke rose from the Voot crash, and at their feet and all around was mountains and piles and masses of twisted metal and wrecked ships sent here to rust away. Many other plumes of smoke rose from various points around from crashfires or final fuel burnoffs. It wouldn't be easy to find their Voot.

Red grabbed Dantie under the shoulders and leaped up, jetting hard and fast. Dantie gripped Red's arms hard as they sped forward, low and close to the surface.

There was at least two hours worth of fuel in his PAK, Red estimated. One hour would be sufficient distance from the crash site to give them time to sort things out.

As they jetted on, Red's mind finally began to catch up with something. "There aren't any creatures here." He turned his head left and right. Wrecks and parts and fuel fires, but no creatures. "Why aren't there any creatures here?"

"I tried to tell you!" Dantie called. "Look!" He pointed up, and Red craned his neck.

Overhead the sky was lit an unnatural gold, as flashes of silver streaked back and forth across the sky. It was the same gold haze he'd crashed through, but now he could see. In that gold haze there were figures. He couldn't quite make them out, but they were well armored and definitely engaged in a struggle. Beyond them was a great press of the hideous, brutish creatures, writhing, snapping, gnashing their teeth, and clawing to get through. But every attack was repelled by the figures in the golden haze with a silver clash and smash of weaponry against scaly hides.

"They are protecting us!" Dantie's face was rapturous with joy. "They've been fighting for us since we left the Massive, Ayam must be close!"

Awe and despair caught up to him at the same time, and Red's jets sputtered out. He dropped Dantie just before colliding with a wreck. His head slammed against a metal door and his last thought before losing consciousness was the black-eyed Irken's words.

_The evidence is all over you. He does not take murderers, Red. You are lost._


	12. Conversation

_But how could Joy and Sorrow co-exist? Where was there a place for Love in Authority?_

_And yet the one word that the voice spoke pulls at him, and he feels a longing in a place he cannot point to as it washes over him._

_"Come."_

_He lifts his arms in answer, the chains clanking loudly as he shifts._

_"Come."_

_What does this voice expect of him? He is bound, he can't move! His ire rises. How can it continue to demand this of him?_

_"Come."_

….

Red's head felt like a spike had been driven through it. He groaned, cracking his eyes open. The light hurt, and he squinted. So many eyes on him, why were there so many eyes—

He shrieked, scrabbling back. A figure stood before him, shining with the power of a newborn star. Four massive wings extended from its back, and eyes covered every inch of its body. Half of the eyes fixed steadily on Red, as the others roved about the area, one hand gripping a sword.

"Do not be afraid." The figure's voice resounded with the sound of a hundred steel blades ringing against each other.

Red began laughing hysterically, unhinged at the sight of this creature and its command. Don't be afraid? Was it serious? Then a thought crossed his mind which shut him up. _Could this be the Ayam everyone talks about?_

"Do not mistake me for the Maker." The figure's eyes pierced through his thoughts.

Irrational frustration welled up in Red. "Just how many names does this person have?" He snapped like a spoiled child.

"Oh it's a very long list," came a much milder voice, tinged with amusement, "And depends on the situation and what I'm trying to communicate."

The winged figure dropped to its face, wings brushing the ground. Red turned, a sense of dread settling in his spooch.

He recognized the Irken instantly. It had shown up at the execution of Teruna, and addressed him through the cameras. The invisible-to-everyone-else Irken.

"You're Ayam?" He croaked.

"That is the name I came to Zim with," The Irken said. "He needed to know me as the Essence of Existence, because that is what I Am. Also," he chuckled, "he did so love to shout who he was. For you, I chose Elyon."

"Elyon?" Red echoed.

"It means The Most High."

Red's face fixed in a stony glare. "But you're not!" He protested. "Look at you!"

As before, the Irken was slightly shorter than an average Irken, dressed as an Invader in standard issue uniform. There was nothing special or outstanding about him, but he just raised an antenna. His eyes shifted behind Red, who followed his gaze back to the winged form that remained on its face.

Red shifted uncomfortably. Elyon didn't have to respond. This creature, which Red cowered from, was on its face to Elyon, which made Elyon the higher being.

"But you can't be!" He blurted. "You don't look anything like it! Why don't you show yourself to be powerful?"

The response was calm. "It's a kindness and a courtesy to you, Red. Your mind and body couldn't handle my true nature, it would undo your body down to the atomic level. Your mind can't even handle all the concepts I wish I could show you, I have to restrict myself to your limited language and understanding."

"But you could at least show yourself as Tall!" Red gripped his antennae, trying to hold himself together.

"Why don't you ask what's really on your mind?"

"Fine!" Red shouted. "I don't know what is going on, but ever since we executed that traitor Zim I've been slowly losing my mind, and hallucinating, but it's not hallucination because it's all real except nobody else can see it unless I pull off their blindfolds and WHY did you make me able to see like this and WHY am I losing everything and WHY do you have to exist and WHY DON'T YOU SHOW YOURSELF AS TALL?"

Elyon let Red's questions hang for a moment, before turning aside. "Would you walk with me, Red?" Without waiting for a response, he began making his way down a pile of scrap.

Irritated that he was being left behind, Red picked his way after Elyon, easily catching up. He towered over Elyon, and his insides curdled at the thought of considering this Elyon Taller than himself.

"You know, Red, every sentient creature in the universe gets an invitation to come with me. The invitation comes in all sorts of ways." Elyon kept his face forward, his expression sad. "Some don't need much prompting. Others, like Zim and yourself, need more extreme measures. And then there are those that would turn me away no matter how I invited them, or what measures I took. I still invite them to allow them the choice, but they still turn me down." A sad smile crossed his face. "Zim asked me why I didn't force them, but I don't want slaves and minions. I want each to choose me, but I will let them choose. Why did I make you able to see? To give you the choice the only way that you'd understand it.

He continued. "Why are you losing everything? You could turn around right now, Red, and leave. Signal your fleet, go back to being Tallest, and have everything you ever wanted. I'll tie the blindfold back on you myself if you really want, and over time you'll convince yourself that this was just temporary insanity. But I'll tell you this, if you do that, then you really will have lost everything. It just won't appear that way."

Red's step faltered. How many times had he questioned which world was real in the past few days? He'd come to accept that this other world reflected the true state of things, so it followed that it was possible for it to appear as if he had everything when truly he had nothing, and might even be in bondage, just like his dreams.

"Why do I have to exist? That one is simple, Red. I Am. I was here before your species was a thought, because it was my thought. I Am Creator, Maker, Originator. You asking me why I exist is like a SIR unit asking why an Irken exists, although you are nothing like a SIR unit, you grasp my meaning."

Red put a little more distance between himself and Elyon, his words disturbed Red deeply. He didn't want to think of himself as created or manufactured. Granted, all Irkens were manufactured through cloning, but that was different. That was within the control of technology, not this unknown force.

"Is that truly what you would prefer, Red?" Elyon turned, his eyes reflecting Red's face. "You would truly prefer that a machine, a cold heartless calculating machine, knows more about you and how you were made than I do?" Elyon took a step forward, his voice rising in passion. "When I set in place the laws that allowed your cells to continue forming in that glass tube? When I watched and cultivated and bound together each cell as it replicated? When I placed in here," His hand pointed at Red's chest as the Tallest took a step back, "The desire to build communities and guide your people to a better way of living? Was I not there," His voice took on a thunderous undertone that dropped Red, shaking, to his knees, "When it was corrupted by the one who sought to blindfold you all so that you took that desire and used it to destroy whole planets, drenching you in the blood of every creature that gasped out its last breath under your planetary cleansing protocols?"

Red gripped the ground, unable to peel his eyes away from the Irken. For a moment, it did not matter that Elyon was a short Irken. For a moment, Red could sense something far greater than what his eyes could process, and it wasn't just in front of him. It was all around him, completely surrounding him from all directions, but keeping a distance. He could feel the power, a raw force greater than he could ever hope to comprehend, something capable of forming and destroying whole galaxies with a word, and understood he could only grasp a fraction of the concept he was being shown.

"Then why," he croaked, "Why didn't you stop me?" The pain in his own voice startled him. "Why didn't you kill me and make it stop?"

The Irken's small hands took Red's claws, cradling them gently. His voice was softer as he answered, "Some of the answers are not concepts that will translate to your understanding, Red, so my words will seem incomplete to you. What part you can understand is this; I honor the choice of every being, even if it breaks my heart. I want you to accept my invitation. I've given it to you in the way that you will best understand it, because I heard you calling for help long before you ever emerged from that tube."

Red's memory flashed back to the moment in the hall, with the black-eyed Irken reaching for him, when he had barely whispered the words, "Help me."

"I Am beyond time," Elyon confirmed, "And I heard you. As for why I do not show myself as tall, I do not need to."

Red sucked in a breath. The simplicity of the statement shredded his understanding of power, turning his worldview on its head. Because this Elyon had all power and all understanding, he had no need to show it. He knew exactly who he was, and that understanding would never be shaken by anyone. All the beings in the universe could say that Elyon did not exist, and it would never rattle him. In fact, he chose to appear within the Irken social structure in a lesser status to topple this concept, because he cared enough to reveal the structure for the trap that it was.

"I haven't entered it yet." Elyon corrected him. "But I am going to. It's what I sent Zim to start telling people, that this is what I will do. And I am coming to you also. I have two invitations for you, Red, but for now, the first is before you." He released Red's hands and stood. "When you decide, we will be over there." He pointed off in the distance, as a black streak penetrated the golden layer, plummeting toward the ground. "We will hear your decision once you come to it. My cherub will keep you safe until then."

"Your what?" Red asked, dumbly. The ground shook as the winged figure drew near, head still lowered in deference.

"Cherub," Elyon repeated. "I have assigned him to protect you. Dantie will be rejoining you shortly." He paused, and murmured quietly, "I hope you will accept my invitation, Red. There is so much more I want to tell you, but it takes your whole life to explain…" He stopped himself, then turned and walked in the direction of the black streak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo that disclaimer I put over and over about not being a theologian and trying to express what I believe in IZ format and probably missing some things and doing my best and if you don't like you don't have to read… that goes here again… cause I'm paranoid…


	13. Poison

Red remained where he'd fallen, unmoving. His body was still, but he felt as if his mind was crumbling piece by piece. Not three feet away stood a creature that could wipe out his existence, but had been posted to guard him by the being that claimed to have made him.

_He does not take murderers._

Red shivered. It was all too much to take in. How could he decide with all his knowledge collapsing all around him?

But then, with all he saw, how could he not decide?

"My Tallest!" Dantie's voice cut through his thoughts as the Irken hurried over. "My Tallest, you are well, did He speak to you?" Undisguised excitement lit his tone. "He spoke to me, it was amazing. I sometimes wondered if… but now I know for sure! I met Him, and He is nothing like I thought, He's even better! Oh I wish I could thank Zim and Dip for sending the Letters!"

"Dib." Red corrected absently. There was a name he wouldn't forget. He'd reviewed the tapes of Zim in his cell after the Earthling's execution, screaming at nobody in rage. The change between that Zim and the Zim that was executed had always made him uneasy, but he didn't probe it.

Now he knew. This Ayam… Elyon… he threw your world out of balance and turned everything on its head.

"My apologies, My Tallest. Dib, then. And Ayam taught me how to use this!" Dantie gestured to the weaponry and armor he still wore. "He said I'd need to know because it might be awhile before you understood how to use yours, and He asked me to help you!" He beamed.

"I have no armor." Red responded, dully. "Or do you see what I do not?" Red held out his hands, still dripping with multi-colored blood.

Dantie's smile faltered. "No, my Tallest. I see what you see. But maybe Ayam sees more than we see?"

_I Am beyond time._

Then perhaps there was hope.

_You are lost._

No, there was no hope. There couldn't be. There was only one thing to do for it, submit himself to their judgment and end it. It was better than living as miserably as this.

"My Tallest," Dantie's voice sounded strange, "Please hold still."

"Why?" Red glanced up. "What are you—"

Dantie rushed at him, wielding a shining dagger. Red yelped, leaping backwards, but Dantie sprang forward, grabbing him by the head and hacking at something. Red threw him off, ready to spear him with a spiderleg, when he saw what was in Dantie's hand.

A large black vine, sprouting sharp thorns, wriggled in death throes in Dantie's hand. "What is that?" Red asked in shock.

"I don't know my Tallest, but it was wrapped around your head, and I saw it growing thicker and squeezing tighter."

Red stared at it. Did the black-eyed Irken's words have such power that they could poison his thoughts from a distance? If his despair had come from those words, then perhaps they were untrue, and perhaps there was hope.

Rising to his feet, he turned on his heel and strode toward the place he had been directed to. "Dantie, walk with me," he commanded. "Answer me something, in your knowledge of these Letters, is El—is Ayam merciful?"

"Very," Dantie scrambled to catch up. "Even when we have done terrible things, He welcomes us. Nobody understands why, but perhaps He will explain when He comes as one of us."

"And you." Red kept his eyes forward. "You would still stay with me, even after I tortured you, and the empire imprisoned you?"

"Yes my Tallest." Dantie said without hesitation.

Red said nothing more as he picked his way forward. When he could see two figures in the distance, he turned to Dantie. "For now, wait here. If I return, we will see what we'll do then. If I don't… I wish you well."

Dantie blinked, startled at the thought, but stood in his place as commanded. The cherub also halted near Dantie, as Red continued on.

He finally reached the two figures, his spooch clenching and unclenching in knots. The black-eyed Irken stood to the right, a few inches taller than himself and staring steadily at him. Elyon stood to the left, as short as he had been before.

_As for why I do not show myself as tall, I do not need to._

Red stared back at the black-eyed Irken, realizing that every time he saw him, the Irken was taller than before, while Elyon's appearance of height had never changed.

"I demand a trial." The Irken's voice dripped with venom. "It is obvious you have turned him against me, and if that is the case, he must be put on trial for his crimes."

Red's heart lurched.

"As you wish Skiftsom." Elyon responded. "Let the trial begin."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter is short, but transition is needed. Also I needed a name besides Black-eyed Irken, it was getting in the way. Skiftsom is my translation mash of "One who shifts."


	14. Trial

_I didn't agree to a trial!_ Pounded in Red's head, but his mouth was too dry to speak.

"Present, Skiftsom." Elyon's voice was weary, as though he'd said the words a thousand times before.

Skiftsom turned toward Red. "By all rights this one is mine. Since his training days he has killed his own in combat, then he turned it on other races. Whole planets have been enslaved, experimented on, or wiped out. This is _my_ work. Look at him." He seized Red's arm, lifting it high. He stuck a claw into the liquid on Red's arm and pulled out a purple drop. "Vortians." He repeated the gesture, a blue drop on his claw. "Slaughtering Rat People." Again, and a small crackle of energy glistened at the tip of his claw. "Meekrob."

Red's chest constricted as he watched Skiftsom go on and on, naming each race he had exterminated or subdued. At one time, this would have been a mark of pride. Now, he could feel all hope slipping away, and a heavy weight gathering on his shoulders.

"Even one of your precious humans." He held a red drop on his claw, and released Red's arm. "His work is mine. You have no claim on him. Withdraw from him!"

Red sank slowly to his knees again, the weight crushing him. He didn't bother looking up to see what weighed him down, it didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore. It was as Skiftsom had said. Elyon would not take him. Why had he even spoken to Red? Was he so cruel as to raise Red's hopes and then dash them? It was the only explanation.

"That is for him to decide. As usual you twist things to suit yourself." Elyon's voice was, again, weary. A note of sadness tinged his tone.

"It is the truth! You yourself cannot stand what he has done, don't deny it! What he has done is against your nature, so you can't call him yours!"

"I don't deny it." Elyon replied. "But he still has a choice."

"Why even bother to choose when you will only reject him?" Skiftsom railed.

"It is you who say I will reject him, repeatedly I might add."

"Because you do!" Skiftsom hissed, growing larger. "You reject what does not fit with you, you cast it out, you send it hurtling into the darkness!"

"What I have made and set in place is the best possible way. It was your own choice, Skiftsom. You chose to try and supplant me because you could not allow for anyone to be greater than you. And on failing you left to bend the minds of all others that I made against me." Elyon's voice was soft. "You know the gates are open to you too, if you would only—"

"Bend the knee?" Skiftsom spat a black gob at Elyon's feet. "Bow the head? Be one of your merry little host blindly singing all hail, all hail, all hail? Never." He gripped Red's shoulder, his claws sinking into the skin. "I will be greater, and I will see all you love BURN. And this one is MINE."

Red's breath caught. _All you love?_ Skiftsom had slipped. Suddenly Red's position was laid out clearly to him. Elyon and Skiftsom were not the judges and he the one whose fate they would decide. Yes, he was on trial, but he was able to cast his lot, it wasn't decided for him.

And this Elyon _did_ want him, even Skiftsom had said as much.

Red lifted his head, even as Skiftsom's claws pierced deep into his shoulder. He met Elyon's steady gaze. "Help me." He croaked. "Help me, please."

"No." Skiftsom growled, jerking Red back. "You can't—"

"Be silent." Elyon commanded, and Skiftsom's mouth shut. "You have said your part. And even so, he has asked for help. Unhand him."

Skiftsom's hand vanished from Red's shoulder as if it had burned him. Elyon drew closer to Red. Once again, he took the Tallest's hand in his. "Red," he said quietly, "I can help you, but this is a war. You have seen its effects, so you understand some small part of it. You've been a leader all your life, and following will come harder for you, but it is essential. Believe me, if you do not follow me, you will be following him, whether you see it or not. Will you take me as your leader and commander?"

Red's eyes dropped to the liquid swimming all over his skin and shuddered, his eyes closing tightly. "If you will have me," he whispered brokenly.

"He is mine!" Shrieked Skiftsom. "You can't!"

"Oh yes, I can." Elyon stood, turning to Skiftsom. "After all, I paid."

"You paid for the humans!" Skiftsom accused. "You accepted Zim because that is how he learned of you, but you can't keep doing that!"

"Maybe you didn't hear me, Skiftsom." Red lifted his head as Elyon's voice went dangerously low. The short Irken figure's face had darkened, his eyes burning. He raised a hand, crooked his claws, and tore a rift in the air beside him. Yanking it wide open, he growled, "I said, I paid."

Through the hole, Red could see a scene laid out before him. An Irken was at the center of it, surrounded by an arena of Irkens, jeering and spitting and hurling all manner of disgusting trash. The Irken was on his hands and knees in the sands of the arena, his skin so lacerated and ragged he was unrecognizable. The sand around him was dark green.

A Control Brain's voice rolled across the arena. "Initiate cellular deconstruction." A beam of electricity shot out from above the Irken, slamming into him.

Red flinched. Cellular deconstruction was the most painful method of execution known to Irkens, short of feeding the Irken to a Morflar. But then there wasn't the spectacle of a public execution, so this was the preferred method for the lowest of the low criminals caught by Irk.

Zim's execution had been a mercy compared to this.

The Irken's back arched as he contorted on the sands, screaming in agony. Slowly, the Irken's skin began to sag, tearing off in little pieces as he thrashed on the sands. What was left began to run off his body in little drops like wax, until there was no more skin left. Then, as he continued spasming, this began to happen to his muscles.

Red lowered his eyes, covering his mouth with a hand. The process had been so refined, even the bones could be targeted before the vital organs. This would happen until all that was left was the Irken's vital organs, leaving him alive and fully conscious until his organs finally liquefied.

"I paid for his crimes." Elyon repeated. "And I accept any who come."

Red's head whipped back up in horror. _That Irken is Elyon?_

"But, you haven't done that!" Skiftsom screamed. "I would have known!"

"How many times must I say it?" Elyon thundered, the scrap around them shifting and sliding as the ground shook. "I Am beyond time. This will happen, it is fixed. And it covers all who choose at that time, at future times, and in this time."

As he spoke, the green stain from the arena sands in the image lifted out of the ground, collecting in a wisping strand that traveled out of the image and through the tear Elyon held. Skiftsom stumbled back as fast as he could, but the strand turned, diving toward Red.

 _So, even_ his _blood will condemn me._ Red's shoulders sagged.

The blood touched his arm, then ran up and down it, up and over his body. Red closed his eyes and held his breath as it ran down his face, gagging at the smell. He shivered, waiting for Elyon to send him away for having his blood on his skin.

"Red." Elyon's voice was gentle. "Red look."

Red opened his eyes and gasped. The blood was gone, all of it. He could see his skin, green and clean as before. More than that, he was covered in armor, and the best weaponry Irk had to offer. Even then he knew he, and perhaps Dantie, would be the only ones able to see this armor.

"It is you, Skiftsom, who has no claim on Red." Elyon declared with authority. "This trial has ended, and you are not welcome here. Leave the way you came, and take your accusations with you."

Skiftsom bellowed in rage, tripling in size as he grabbed scrap from all around, hurling it in every direction in fury before stomping a foot. He streaked back toward the golden haze, pushing through and vanishing.

Red crumpled to the ground, his mind and body exhausted from all he'd witnessed. As he faded from consciousness, he felt a hand gently stroking his head.

…

_"Come."_

_What else can he do? He rises to his feet, and as he does, the chains fall away. The hand grips his, and the rags transform to rich, royal robes. As he squints, he can just make out the owner of the three-clawed hand. An Irken face grinning with rapturous joy._

_"Red, I'm so happy. We have so much to talk about."_


	15. Flight

_He looks down at himself, covered in robes. "This is a dream," he says._

_"Yes, it is."_

_"You sent the dreams."_

_"Yes, I did."_

_He looks over at Elyon. "I don't understand, why me?"_

_"I don't want anyone to be away from me, Red. And when I called you, you responded to Me."_

_Red looks down. "You're not always going to be around for me to talk to, are you? This is a special thing, isn't it?"_

_"You will not always see me with your eyes, but I will always be here." Elyon's claw pokes Red's chest. "When you accepted me as your commander, you allowed me to live and speak to you inside you."_

_"That doesn't make sense," Red says flatly. "Am I your puppet then?"_

_"No." Elyon's voice is stern. "Never a puppet. This is how I keep my promise that I will never abandon you, and you may speak with Me anytime. I will guide you if you let me, but I will never force you."_

_"Elyon, are you really going to do what you showed Skiftsom and me? Is that really going to happen to you?"_

_Elyon gazes at him steadily. "It is not going to 'happen to me.' It is something I choose to endure for the sake of the Irken race, just as I have done it for the human race. There isn't a force in existence that could do to me something I did not allow."_

_Red's throat tightens. "I have never heard of a commander or a leader like you."_

_"Then it's time to learn, Red." The vision blurs, and Elyon's voice is coming from farther away. "I will always be with you, Red. Listen for me."_

…..

Dantie had intended to remain where he was, just like the Tallest told him to. But when the Tallest fell over, well, he couldn't just stay put. Especially not when he caught sight of SIR units on the horizon.

He'd darted forward as fast as he could, noting the black streak returning the way it came while Ayam remained, crouched over Red.

"My Tallest! Ayam! Ayam is My Tallest alright?" Dantie skidded to a stop, unsure how to proceed.

Ayam nodded, slowly stroking Red's antennae. "He'll be alright. He'll wake up a little confused, but he'll be fine." He turned his attention to Dantie. "You will still stay with him?"

"Yes Ayam."

"His road is hard," Ayam warned, "I will be with you both, but it is not easy."

"I will stay with My Tallest, Ayam."

Ayam smiled at him. "You have a strong heart Dantie." He clapped the Irken on his shoulder, and Dantie shivered at the joy that coursed through him. "You will see me again."

And then He was gone. And yet, not gone. There was a strange warmth in Dantie's chest, and he smiled.

The distant sound of search drones snapped him out of his reverie, and he dropped to his knees, shaking Red. "My Tallest!" Red's skin was clean of all blood, and he now wore the same armor Dantie had seen on himself once Red had clawed something away from his eyes in the torture chamber. He set his joy aside, he had to wake his Tallest and get him away from this place.

…

Red felt someone prodding him. Calling him. But he didn't want to get up. There was so much more to talk with Elyon about, even as the dream slipped away, the details started to fade.

"My Tallest, they are coming!"

Dantie's voice. Red opened his eyes. Too many times passing out, had he damaged himself? A quick PAK check confirmed a concussion from their initial landing, and his headfirst collision. He lifted his head, scanning around.

Dantie was desperately shaking his arm. Elyon and Skiftsom were nowhere to be seen. There were, however, several SIR units visible on the distant mounds, scanning the scrap.

Red flailed to his feet, then sagged back, groaning. The concussion was almost healed, but his head was swimming a little. Had it only been a dream?

He glanced down at himself. Still covered in armor. If that was the case, then perhaps… yes. The cherub still stood nearby, eyes fixed on Red.

"Are you…" He swallowed, pulling up his courage, "Are you really here to protect me?"

"That is what Elyon assigned." Came the response.

"Then I can ask you to help." Red hedged. When the Cherub did not contradict, Red pressed, "We need a safe place. Do you know where we can hide or escape? Show us!"

The Cherub turned and began striding off. Dantie propped Red up, helping him struggle to his feet.

"My Tallest, your jets?" Dantie suggested.

"No, the SIRs will pick it up immediately." Red staggered on, occasionally leaning on Dantie. "We'll follow him."

The Cherub walked in front of them, and as they kept in its wake, the going seemed a little easier. After an hour of slow staggering, they stopped as the Cherub turned to them, pointing at a crumpled Vortion Rock-hopper. "Through there."

"Stay here my Tallest." Dantie propped Red up against a broken down Voot and inspected the Rock-Hopper. Prying back the door, he peered inside. "Oh! There's ground-level under here, I see a grate!" He squirmed into the bulky craft, and Red heard his spiderlegs clicking free. Screeching metal followed a few moments of grunting and groaning, then Dantie's head popped back into view. "My Tallest, a tunnel. Hurry!"

Red pulled himself over to the Rock-Hopper, swinging his legs over and nearly slithering into the hole, which had been made for much smaller bodies. Dantie had already begun descent down the holds carved into the side, as Red reached up to swing the grate shut over the top and descended after him.

The climb down was dismal and cramped. Red watched the light that was the top of the tunnel shrink down to a pinpoint before vanishing. Deeming them far enough away from the SIR units' range, he lit up his PAK, unwilling to face total dark in such a constricting place.

"Oh!" He breathed a sigh of relief. "Look, a tunnel." Right next to his head, two gaping holes yawned, much wider than the shaft down and running in either direction. "Maybe this leads somewhere."

"But there's light down below!" Dantie exclaimed.

Red grimaced. While he didn't fancy going deeper, moving away from a light source was unthinkable. As they continued down, they passed several other openings, but Red passed each, his reluctance to descend increasing each time.

Dantie reached the opening first, and called up in excitement, "The Cherub is here My Tallest, waiting for us!"

Red sucked in a breath, realizing he could have gotten himself and Dantie hopelessly lost had they taken the first tunnel. He slipped in after Dantie, both now following the receding light of the Cherub.

"Where are you leading us?" Red asked.

"To the Maker's second invitation." The Cherub's voice rang off the walls.

Red inspected himself again. The armor he wore was proof of acceptance for the first invitation, but Elyon had mentioned two.

"He does love to be cryptic, doesn't he?" Red sighed.

_"It's not about being cryptic, Red. It's about teaching you to trust me each step of the way."_

Red slammed his head against the roof of the tunnel. "WHAT?!" He looked around wildly. "WHO'S IN MY HEAD?"

Dantie paused, looking back worriedly.

_"I'm not abandoning you, remember?"_

Red's eyes widened.

_"Trust me, Red. I'll give you what you need each step of the way. For now, just follow the Cherub, and listen for me."_

Red swallowed, and mumbled, "It's okay Dantie, it's just Elyon in my head, nothing I can't get used to… I suppose…"

To his surprise, Dantie reached back, carefully patting his hand. "It's a great gift, My Tallest. You can see things no one else can, and Ayam speaks to you so clearly. Very few I have heard of can see or hear so clearly. We only know of Zim." He smiled, then continued forward.

Red sighed. Zim. For the first time in his entire life, he wished Zim were there. He'd never regretted the insane Irken's execution more.

_"He's long since forgiven you. In fact, he is always asking me how you are doing, and has been requesting I reach out to you and Purple shortly after he arrived Home."_

Red's breath caught. Zim had been talking to Ayam about him? The corner of his mouth lifted.

"Does he still go on non-stop without breathing?" He whispered under his breath.

_"Of course. He is, after all, still Zim."_


	16. Firewall

Purple's eyes fixed on the holographic globe that spun slowly before him, mapping the terrain of Junkyardia. Red had vanished somewhere into the scrap heaps. He had to be found, had to be stopped. He could still pass off Red's disappearance as madness, insanity that had to be contained and deactivated by the Control Brains. But the second Red started talking, anyone would be able to see he wasn't mad.

He slipped to the back of his mind. He didn't want to think about this. He didn't have to, either. He'd found he could just step aside, and come back to find all the decisions already made. He rather liked it. Things were finally getting done again, like they hadn't since Red had gone mad.

He still couldn't believe Red—of all Irkens, Red!—had succumbed to this brainworm fodder about a higher being. No one was greater than the Almighty Tallests, and if he had to wipe out one to prove it, he would.

His spooch twinged slightly, and he frowned.

He hated what Red had done. It was a betrayal of everything they'd worked for together. It was a betrayal of their authority as Tallests. He'd even thrown Purple aside, hadn't he?

Yes. He'd cast Purple aside. This was a power grab, pure and simple. Red wasn't complicated. Okay he was a little more complicated lately, but he was still Red. Anything he'd ever done, he'd done to keep control. Purple had let him do all the thinking. Well, most of it.

Now he could run the empire without even thinking. He didn't need Red just as much as Red didn't need him. Yeah. This had been coming all along really.

He snapped back to attention, blinking. He was no longer in front of the Junkyardia hologram, but in front of the communications command center. Every broadcast was filtered through here first. Every legal and approved broadcast, of course.

He glanced down at some drone or another, on their knees in front of him, looking terrified. He vaguely wondered what he'd said.

"Y-yes my Tallest, right away." The drone stammered, leaping to her feet and barking orders at the others in the room. Purple wondered why he hadn't noticed anyone else, but dismissed the thought. He didn't care. He didn't have to.

All the screens flickered, the images flipping rapidly through every program being sent to PAKs, entertainment screens, and handheld datapads throughout Irk's extensive reach. To prison cells and palaces, from quarry medbays rejuvenating those worked nearly to death so they could get up and work again to high class eateries where Irkens chatted and laughed, comparing their conquests and boasting of their next ones.

There.

His arm jerked forward, the claw pointing at one screen. "Stop. That one." His voice grated. "All screens."

Immediately Red's face filled the screen. He looked tired and filthy, and rather bewildered. His mouth was moving, but there was no sound. He glared at the drone from earlier, and she cringed. "Apologies my Tallest, the problem is on the other end. Our sound works perfectly."

As she spoke, the speakers squawked terribly. Red appeared to be fiddling with something on the side, and words came through in spatters and spits of crackling static.

"…allest are you… what if…. Don't think…"

"…don't know what… just keep an eye… Dantie calm… before I sedate…"

"Where is this transmission coming from?" Purple demanded.

"We're working to trace it now my Tallest." The drone's claws flew over the controls, fueled by terror. He smiled darkly. She knew the consequences of failure.

She stopped, her antennae trembling. "My Tallest, the channel is heavily encrypted. It's a firewall nearly the security of our own."

Purple scowled. Of course. Some of their top encryption experts had defected. He and Red had spent weeks chasing them down, but one or two still evaded them. The others had been forced to change the Massive's firewalls once more before their execution. So, he'd found the pet project of the last couple deserters, and so had Red. He probably had no clue though.

"Hack it." He growled.

"B-but, my Tallest, I don't know how—"

A spiderleg slid cleanly through her chest and jerked out just as fast. She slumped over on her side with a gasp as he turned. "You!" He pointed to another. "You are the new head communication drone person. HACK this channel."

"Yes my Tallest!" The drone took her seat, scanning her last few moments of work.

"I'm just saying I don't know why the Cherub isn't moving!" Came a slightly frustrated voice from the speakers. "This isn't safety or help, it's an abandoned underground chamber with a bunch of scrap technology."

"Well what did you expect from Junkyardia, a high class communications wing?" Red snapped at the voice, massaging his temples.

Purple grinned. Red always did that when he was in over his head on something, or frustrated.

"My Tallest, we're still working to find the source of the transmission, but until then, we've found a way to broadcast to all screens on Junkyardia. Do you wish to open communications?" The drone glanced up.

"Yes. Open communications." Purple folded his arms. "This should be good."

…..

Red continued fiddling with the wires of the communication station. The Cherub had led them crawling for hours until they'd found this chamber. Recently abandoned, the chairs were still warm from their most recent occupants, but the Cherub had stopped there and refused to move.

Maybe the time underground, the uncertainty, and all the things Dantie had seen that day had frayed him some. His voice held an edge of hysteria as he demanded to know why the Cherub hadn't moved, but received no answer. Red, who felt his sanity had been hanging on a thread for days, calmly set about fixing the only thing in the chamber. If the Cherub had stopped here, obviously something important had to happen. And if this room was communications, well, the wires that had been cut on departure had to be fixed so something could happen.

"They don't even know how to properly destroy a station," he muttered. "If I ever find these Krissirks they're going to learn how to cover their tracks better whether they like it or not."

Glancing up, he noticed a soft blue light glowing at the corner of a lens. He squinted. How long had that been going? Was it transmitting anywhere? He soldered the final set of wires together, and the station hummed to life.

As it did, every screen displayed Tallest Purple, staring coldly at him.

He staggered backward, eyes wide.

"Red."

"Purple."

 


	17. Escape

"Planetwide broadcast?" Red guessed, glancing around the room.

"Or we've already targeted your location and are giving you one last chance to come in peacefully." Purple shrugged his shoulders. "Take your pick."

"Yeah Pur," Red growled, "Fantastic, I'll just up and come in peacefully and you'll have me deactivated within the hour."

"Who said anything about deactivation?" Purple peered at the screen. "You're sick, Red. The Krissirks and their poison infected you. I'm sure the Brains will understand, we can fix this."

Red stared hard at the screen. Even through the video feed he could still see the black strings attached to Purple's body, but they seemed to be slack. He could even see Skiftsom standing behind Purple, holding the strings, but not pulling them. Skiftsom stared coldly back at Red, seemingly content to let Purple do his own talking.

"Pur, you've got it backwards." Red shook his head. "I've seen things… you have no idea. And I still see things you wouldn't believe. One of them is right behind you."

A small smirk worked its way across Purple's face. He lifted a hand and twirled a dark strand idly around his claw, the motion casual enough to be mistaken for twiddling his claws by anyone else. "You might be surprised."

"But Pur, you're a puppet!" Red exploded, grabbing the screen. "You're being _used_ don't you see?"

Purple's hands dropped to his sides as the strings tightened. "No more than you are. You think you're free of strings? You just chose different strings."

"I don't want to hear from you, you twist everything!" Red snarled. "I want to hear from Purple!"

The strings slackened again as Skiftsom smiled, cold and confident.

"I'm not being used." Purple's eyes narrowed. "Things are getting done. We're moving forward. We're wiping out the threat, just like we started, except _you_ got distracted and left it all to me. Well I'm getting it done. Just cause you switched sides doesn't stop that."

"It isn't a threat, Pur. It's the truth." Red's antennae lowered. "We're not the—"

"Don't say it!" Purple hissed, eyes narrow. The strings were still slack, and a sick feeling settled in Red's stomach. "Don't you dare say it Red. It's treason and you know it. Even for us. You say it, and the Brains will order your execution."

This was Purple talking. No wonder Skiftsom looked so confident, allowing him slack. Purple was really ready to turn him in to die for this.

Red shut his eyes, his head hanging. He could hardly imagine moving forward without his co-Tallest, much less fleeing him the rest of his life. But going back was unthinkable. He opened his eyes, staring down at his armor. He could never go back on this. All because…

He lifted his head. "We're not the highest beings." He finished softly. "We're not almighty, and I know who is."

"Red!" Purple barked, a hint of fear in his voice.

"Ayam. Ayam is the highest being." He fixed his eyes past Purple on Skiftsom. "And nothing will change that, not even my death. Zim was right."

"And you can go join him!" Purple spat. "Good luck getting off-world before incineration Red. I hope your precious Ayam greets you on the other side."

The screens went black as the transmission died, and Red's shoulders slumped.

"Incineration? What did he mean?" Dantie asked.

"He's going to destroy the whole planet." Red said hollowly. "We have two levels of planetary cleansing, a surface sweep and complete destruction. He's going to destroy the whole thing."

"We can't get off-planet?" Dantie turned to the Cherub, wide-eyed. When he received no answer, he sat slowly. "How long?"

"This planet will be space debris within two hours." Red said flatly. "We'd have to find a perfectly intact ship immediately and gun it hard to be in a safe zone by then."

"Then we'd better be going."

Both their heads jerked up at the rasp. The Cherub had stepped aside, revealing a tunnel opening. A haggard looking set of pink eyes peered out, framed by a gaunt face. "Follow me." The voice whispered, as the eyes vanished.

Red's antennae twitched. "I know that voice," He muttered, but clambered through the opening and into the tunnel. He cocked one antennae back to ensure Dantie was following, relaxing when he heard his companion scrambling after. "Who are you?" He called.

"Time for that later," came the answer back, still a reedy croak of a voice. "Now we fly. Last pod off."

Up ahead, a tiny shuttle glowed to life, casting a dim light on the tiny Irken that scuttled toward it. Red saw the curl of the antennae. Female, he noted, and extremely tiny, but he couldn't see her face.

She was _so_ small though. And her voice was…

He froze, Dantie running into him from behind. His voice was low and strained as he hedged, "Counselor Traz?"

"Not the time, my Tallest." She rasped, unlatching the hatch and hopping in. "We need to leave now. Get in."

Wordlessly, he climbed into the pod. It was a pod built for one, two at most, and Red was hunched uncomfortably. As Dantie wedged in, Red picked up Counselor Traz and set her on top of his knee, where she could reach steering and so there was a little more room. She was hardly bigger than the length of his hand, an anomaly among the council for her to be allowed into such a position, but her prowess at codes and encryption programs had superceded the heightocracy. She still had the disdain of most of the council, but flourished in her department.

Until they found her on a ship, fleeing with other defectors, with a copy of the Letters encoded in her PAK. Then she was taken to the torture wing, and any information she had was extracted past her screams. She and the others had been forced to change the Massive's security, then scheduled for execution.

He stared down at the top of her head. Scars patterned her skin, and one antenna hung limp. A few of the heavier scars ran along her throat.

"You were so small," he said quietly, "You found a way out, didn't you?"

"Yes my Tallest." She rasped, tapping a path into the computer. "Belt yourselves and hold me still. We're going to the surface and straight to orbit. With luck we'll make it clear before the planet blows."

Red glanced out the hatch. The Cherub stood just outside, hands on the back of the craft, ready to push. "Don't worry. Something tells me we'll make it just fine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI there will be no romance in this story so stop dat ship right dere now. I made her female cause, well, I kind of automatically type "he" a lot when writing up extra Irken characters and I'm trying not to do that.


	18. Epilogue

Once they cleared orbit and the blast range of the scheduled planetary explosion, Red sat in silence, allowing Traz to steer. Wherever they were going probably was no better than heading straight back for Tallest Purple. Irk only knew why she took them off-planet before the blast, but it was probably to bring him to some Krissirk council to have them end his life there.

"So when did you start believing?" Traz rasped, keeping her eyes focused forward.

Red glanced over to Dantie, assuming the question was for him. But Dantie was staring back up at him, expectantly.

"Yes, you, my Tallest."

"After I started seeing monsters in the hall and my quarters as a dungeon." He said flatly, staring ahead. "After I saw my co-Tallest wound up in black strings held by the scariest looking Irken I've ever seen." His voice softened slightly. "Around the time Ayam came and had a chat with me. Then showed me what he was going to do for me someday."

"Then you've seen a vision of the future. Of what Zim spoke of, and what the Earth Letters record as having happened for the Hyumans."

Red dipped his head. "Yes."

"You also can see much more than most, I gather."

Red looked down at Traz, and really studied her for the first time. In the folds of the scars tracing all along her body, lacy vines sprouting miniscule flowers grew, giving off a sweet fragrance. "Yes. From what I understand, most can't. To me, I see you are wearing a blindfold. I removed Dantie's." His hand lifted up. "I could take yours—"

She swatted his hand sharply. "Forgive me, My Tallest, but that is not something I wish to take part in."

He blinked, taken aback. "But, you can see everything that's going on," he said, dumbfounded. "It's disturbing at first, but you're fighting blind right now."

"Not everyone can handle this gift, My Tallest. It would distract me, and perhaps drive me mad. He allowed you this gift because He knew you could handle what He was giving you."

Red glanced down to Dantie. Had he made a mistake ripping the Irken's blindfold off?

Dantie almost laughed at the Tallest's questioning expression. "I am well, My Tallest. I do not regret it. I spoke to Ayam, and received His instructions with my own antennae, it is an honor."

Traz shook her head. "Says the Irken who was nearly hysterical back in our tunnels. It wears on you, even the Tallest is exhausted. We will find a place for you to rest before you flee."

"Flee where?" Red gestured helplessly. "Purple will have everyone looking for me, and my height is a dead giveaway."

"You'll have to keep to the outskirts of the empire. Scrap planets, wilderness wastes, empty space stations."

"Why are you helping me?" He stared at the top of her head. "After what we did to you?"

She turned, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. "You don't know, do you? That screen you hooked up, that broadcasting station? It was transmitting covertly to Krissirks and select public screens Empire-wide. We were reading off the Letters, discussing them, trying to make sense of it, providing tips on evasion, all sorts of things. We didn't have time to destroy it when someone tipped us off that someone entered the tunnels, just cut the wires."

Red's eyes widened.

"You, one of the two almighty Tallests, just told a large part of the Empire about Ayam."

"The Cherub just stood there," The gears clicked in Dantie's mind. "Like we were supposed to do something."

"And though whatever you see on Tallest Purple may not be visible to us," Traz waved a hand, "He acknowledged publicly that someone is pulling his strings. Between the two of you, you've seeded doubt about the Tallests' sovereignty quite well."

"Don't you see, My Tallest?" Dantie's excitement blossomed. "If I go around saying that Ayam is real, then for all they know I have brainworms. But you fought to destroy the idea, and you _now_ say that He is real, and that means something to people! You have to talk about it more!"

"Is that really what I'm meant to do now?" Red said quietly, "Hide for the rest of my life, broadcasting on hidden channels and just… talking?"

 _It will be nothing like what you are used to,_ came the gentle voice, _that is not all there is to do, but I will speak to you of more in time. For now, just follow me in this step. Those who have recently learned of me and my promise for their future need the encouragement you can offer. Will you do this for me, Red? Will you lift their spirits and give them hope?_

A small smile tugged at his mouth, and he inclined his head. "If my commander says so."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this time, I do not have anything else for this story. It seems to have wound itself down. I won't rule out a third in the series, but only if it happens naturally in my head. I won't force it. Thanks for tagging along, and for your patience in the exceedingly lengthy hiatus. For now, this is the end of this fic.


End file.
